Those were the days of our lives- Pop's Story

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Global-soft.
Not the best idea of the modern civilisation I'll admit.
But y'know.
What's done is done, I suppose.
Not much I could do about it.
I was usually behind a dusty old counter.
But the business of pouring over dusty old literature morning, noon & night.
Was cabbaging my poor old nut.
But if I'd've quit then.
I would not have been very useful.
For one thing, I would have no bread.

Being a librarian was all that I knew.
It's tough being a hippie in this day & age.
Now.
I say literature.
But what I mean are artefacts.
Things from another time.
I've been sneaking little peepers at the so called archive.

I'd found them whilst cleaning the shelves.
They were scruffy old things.
Barely worth keeping if I'm honest.
Loads of scraps.
They looked ready for filing of a different kind.
The corners were dreadfully dog-eared.

But.
As I carried on with the cleaning.
I was finding other little tit-bits.
I was going to file them under the BIN.
But as I was about to chuck them in the fire.
A single word caught my attention.
Pop.
The word tingled as I said it.

A name that didn't end in .com or some such bollocks.
A hipster title.
A name?

It was better than having no name.
Before now.
I had been spoken to like a complete idiot.
Things like "Oi you!" or "Hey hippie!"
All the time.
I felt like ripping out the guts of those sniggering plastic bitches known as the race of the Ga Ga children.

My new name Pop.

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