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Lady Be Good – Count Basie
Now, let me tell you about Madge.
I met her two years previously. Another summer, but not so hot. One Saturday morning I was on my way to Mehmet’s for milk, bread, a paper, cigarettes and booze, when I saw her. Elderly. Grey hair, wearing a light mac, looking at the postcards in the shop window advertising all manner of delights, from cleaning jobs to French lessons. And we all knew what they were. She was holding the handle of one of those push me, pull you, tartan shopping trolleys. From out of the pocket at the front, I could see a brown handbag or purse. Twenty yards or so from her, a couple of young likely lads, one white, one black, both on bicycles far too small for them, were giving the bag the eye. I went into the shop, did my business, keeping a w
