We ambled off into nearby Hornsea, and as it was my wife's
turn to drag the dog, I scouted ahead, and looked into the only shop on the
seafront, which strangely appeared to sell a mixture of pastel coloured buckets
and spades, and hard liquor.
Glancing back to see my wife making slow progress, and by now carrying the dog, I spotted an elderly local leaning against the seafront wall, he had a haunted look about him, the look of a man who had spent too many years at the prow of a ship squinting for Haddock, I tried chatting with him, I didn't get his name, but let's call him Captain Haddock.
The above story is an excerpt from "Beneath A Straw Boater" by Peter Jackson, a collection of short stories available from Amazon.
Glancing back to see my wife making slow progress, and by now carrying the dog, I spotted an elderly local leaning against the seafront wall, he had a haunted look about him, the look of a man who had spent too many years at the prow of a ship squinting for Haddock, I tried chatting with him, I didn't get his name, but let's call him Captain Haddock.
The above story is an excerpt from "Beneath A Straw Boater" by Peter Jackson, a collection of short stories available from Amazon.
