Uncle lent me thirty pounds. Treat Laura

to a slap-up meal. Don’t hold back, he

said. We’d agreed to meet in Green Park.

I didn’t know the place well, but it had

this air of glamour. It was a tortuous train

journey up to town. I gazed out of the

grimy carriage windows, at sooty brown

buildings. We crossed the river, and

rattled into a brick-roofed terminus. I

sought out the Underground. It made me

nervous. I was gulped under the earth,

then vomited up, just on time.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

54 thoughts on “Travelling”

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