A father and son on a London bus.
Father: So would you have to pay the whole rent if she left you?
Son: I don’t know. I don’t think so, but…
Father: Relationships end you know.
Son: I don’t think she would leave me.
Father: So you’re not just boyfriend and girlfriend anymore.
Son: I guess not.
Father: Does she have a proper job yet?
Son: No …
Father: Can she pay the rent?
Son: Yes (something muffled about the precarious nature of working in London)
Father: It’s a good arrangement for her then.
Father: Have you paid off your card yet?
Son: No … but I haven’t been paid for three months.
Father: Do you need some money?
Father: You’re twenty-seven already it’s time you found a permanent job. You’ll be thirty soon.
Father: You want a job where they’ll pay when you’re on holiday.
Father: Where is it you’re playing golf again?
Father: Do you take your clubs with you to work?
Son: Yes, I take them on the tube.
Father: What about bringing your car over from home?
Son: No, I don’t so, I don’t want to do that.
Son: This is Clissold Park, I run here sometimes.
Father: What is it called. Clifford?
Son: No, Cliss-old.
Father: You shouldn’t run, not with your knee.
Father: You can never really escape the city here can you. Don’t you miss the sea?
Son: I appreciate home more than before, but my friends they’re doing the same things, they’ve all settled down.
Father: That’s what you should be doing at your age.
Image by Matthew Wiebe.