Every Shade of Happy

ide because the thought of having to dig them out made him feel almost as if he’d

day Algernon walked to the shop for his newspaper, listened to the news on the radio, then made a valiant attempt at completing The Times crossword which, to his intense but private shame, he managed less often these days. He would always have an afternoon nap and later, after a supper prepared at exactly 5.30pm, he would watch the news probably followed by a detective series on television. Each activity was marked or perhaps dictated by the carriage clock on his mantelpiece and that was just the way it was. If he were to hold a conversation with himself, Algernon might admit to having been more than skilled in the art of creating tidy boxes in which to place the various stages of his life. He was unlikely, however, to hold a conversation with himself. He was unlikely to hold a conversation with anyone, being a man of so few words as he was.

Algernon glanced at his carriage clock. The steady tick of its mechanism nudged its delicate gold hands to 5.28pm, telling him that it was nearly time for his ready meal and another cup of tea, virtually the highlight of his whole day.