Evensong Hallelujah
He stared at his empty luncheon plate. The fish and chips and pint of bitters had not eased his misgivings or quenched his need for relaxation and redemption. Memories of the Spanish sunshine had quickly faded replaced by his son’s excuses, which had started even before he finished parking the motorhome in its designated spot on the farm. The promised work had not been done. He knew what that meant. The bills had not been paid and that foretold another trip to the bank and another slice of his...