I poured the boiling water out of the kettle and into my favorite mug. I only had a couple of scoops of sugar left, but that would be plenty. I didn’t have to worry about going to the shops anymore.
I got to talk to somebody today. It might have been my ex-wife and her mother, but at least I still got to talk to somebody. She told me that my son was doing well. Apparently he has a nice job where he works in an office and writes reports for the American government. Joyce said that he makes good money and gets to take three weeks of holiday time each year.
I walked into the toilet and took a piss while my tea was steeping. Standing over the toilet, I tried to picture what my son might be doing. I imagined him in a nice suit and tie. Maybe he was in a meeting or just working diligently at his desk. I had no idea what an office job was like. I’d only ever worked with my hands. I didn’t even own a suit.
Back in the kitchen, I mixed in the last two scoops of sugar along with some milk. I heard the familiar sound of rain crashing against the roof. It had been a nice summer day, but this was England and sun in the morning didn’t always mean sun in the afternoon. I bet my son didn’t have to deal with this much rain. California was famous for blue skies. At least that’s what the movies always said. I wish I could have gone to visit him once or twice. I told him I would, but with every year it just got harder and harder to do. Now the money was all gone and it had just been far too many years.
Thankfully, it was a great cup of tea. Always famous for my iron stomach, I quickly guzzled it down while it was still piping hot. I wasn’t about to let my last cup of tea go cold.
All in all, it was a good day. I put the cup down and grabbed the rope off the table.