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Post by EOS on Feb 17, 2008 21:50:39 GMT 3
This cafeteria is almost full, people have flocked in to drink something warm, away from the rain. Light and warmth, stained tableclothes and smell of greasy bacon and hot coffee and tea, bits and pieces of conversations, a truly welcoming place indeed. Outside people are walking past holding umbrellas and avoiding puddles, cars are driving by splashing water. London does not stop doing business because of rain, otherwise no-one would get any work done.
Near the window sits a middle-aged man. Grey haired and bearded, clothed in old grey coat, heavy boots, brown trousers and a black warm sweater. Look’s more like a farmer than a person who lives in a city this big. He’s warming his hands around a steaming cup of tea and looking through the window, following the little droplets gliding down the glass with his eyes half-closed.
(Kokeellinen englanninkielinen peli tässä siis, fiilistelyä sateisessa Lontoossa ilman sen kummempia paineita suurista ja mahtavista juonista, ei kieliopista naputtamista kun emme kuitenkaan kukaan natiivipuhujia ole, vapaasti mukaan vaan kokeilemaan kielellä kikkailua :))
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Post by submarine on Feb 17, 2008 22:25:35 GMT 3
"Come on, you piece of junk, work!" Dan cursed, stomping the gass pedal and turning the key to no avail. He had been doing this for the the better part of a quarterhour now, trying every conceivable - and many much less conceivable - thing to get his old car running. First it was a few mumbled swears and some timid attempts, now he was practically assaulting the vehicle already. He never had a good temper. But, despite his brutest attempts and most virulent words, the car remained as silent as ever, not even making that attempt these things usually did. Dan was pretty sure it was dead for good, but that didn't stop him from trying to kick some life into the thing.
After perhaps ten minutes of gradually lessening attempts, Dan finally admitted his loyal steed was a no-go. He sat there for a moment, grimly looking out into the rain. It wasn't completely unexpected, he supposed, seeing it had been pretty bad for almost a year now. The bill would probably be huge. There was absolutely no point in sitting at the old car, though. Dan looked around, figuring there was nothing worth stealing there anyways, but still making sure. Then he snatched the little dog toy hanging from the rear window, put it into one of the pockets of his coat and practically slammed the door open. He was greeted with cold rain. From the outside, the car looked a lot more pathetic. It was some old piece of junk from some equally little-liked company. The paint job was about as pretty as a trainwreck, windows had cracks and nothing could have been too much worse. And so Dan, a black man somewhere in his twenties, smashed the door shut and walked away in the rain. He didn't even lock it, there was no need - if some thief wanted to steal car seats, he was welcome. After a few steps, he turned around and threw the keys to the windshield. Amazingly, the weakened glass didn't shatter. Anyone stupid enough to actually try it was welcome to take the damn thing.
After a little while, Dan was soaking wet. His thin coat really didn't offer much protection from the rain, it just got wet and stuck to his skin. Same for his jeans. From the corner of his eye, he spied a coffee shop or somesuch on the other side of the street. He wasn't too much of a coffee drinker and didn't, for the general shock of Englishmen, enjoy tea too much. But at the moment, a big, warm cup of coffee felt like a damn good idea. Actually, he never really liked these small places, either, but now that, too, felt like a welcome sight. Not bothering to think too much, Dan rushed over the street. A car almost drove over him, and he greeted it's rear with the finger as he went.
Inside the place, Dan looked around for a moment. The place was almost full, many people probably looking as miserable as he did. He never really was much of a conversationalist either, and that really wasn't too good when people wanted to be friendly. However, seeing no other choices, he headed over for the first table with any seats left. There was some older man there, Dan supposed he was from the countryside. The sight really didn't please him, but he still went and sat down. He just hoped the man wouldn't start a friendly chat with him, he was really in no mood for that now. Not in a mood at all.
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S
Member
Tiger wiger
Posts: 169
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Post by S on Feb 19, 2008 19:11:48 GMT 3
Oh damn it, my brand new shoes will get spoiled, she thought to herself trying to avoid all those puddles of water of the street. Rain had been pouring down all day and by the look of the heavily hanging grey clouds it would seem to keep on raining the next few days. Her dark brown hair was even curlier when soaked wet and her black jacket had dark watered spots all over it. Jenny was almost freezing and people around her seemed so busy to get away from the rain. In her busy and work obsessed life, this could very well be the loneliest time of the day. It pained to see all those happy couples and families that kept on smiling at each other despite of the rain. In Jenny’s life it was just her. Her and her cat. No friends from work to ask her out afterwards, no boyfriend to go to. Even all her relatives lived across the Atlantic Ocean. For almost five years now it had been just work, work, and work for her.
It wasn’t that Jenny was unlikeable, she just didn’t have the time. She didn’t have time to hang around at night clubs, not that it was her cup of tee in any case. She liked her job, always had, and until recently it hadn’t been a problem that her work took all the time in her life. It was fun and made her feel independent when she was 21. It was fulfilling when se turned 25 and got a promotion. But now, closing up on 30, she felt she was getting older. It started to matter that she didn’t have any friends in London.
It was right in the middle of her thoughts when a huge truck drove by her and made a puddle of muddy water splash on her shoes and trousers. Her clothes drained all the water and cold took over her body fast. In that moment she hated the rain, hated her stooped fashionable clothes and especially hated London! There was a café close by Jenny remembered. Maybe she could wipe the mud stains from her jeans in the ladies room.
The bell rang softly when she entered the small and seemingly crowded café and immediately looked for the ladies room. Perhaps she could a get a cup of coffee and maybe even a piece of pie. It felt more tempting than the two days old lasagne in her fridge.
((Sori kun kesti ja pahoittelut myös tönköstä tekstistä. Tajusin vasta teidän vuoroja lukiessani, että englantini on _todella_ ruosteessa. ))
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Post by EOS on Feb 25, 2008 20:14:25 GMT 3
”And then she said…I mean really…she started lecturing _me_ about proper manners, that bitch…” High and irritated woman's voice. “That’s all right love, we’ll wait a bit and call him again. He’s just walking the dog…” Tired looking man trying to soothe a child.
Everywhere there is laughter and people have to shout to be heard over the constant murmur that sounds like it’s bouncing of the walls and echoing in the room. This is not a pub, a pub would be even noisier, but still people manage to create an atmosphere of lively conversation.
Round tables take room and chairs cluttered around them make navigating through the room a challenging task. A wet coat here, a dripping umbrella creating a puddle there… “’Scuse me, sorry, coming through…excuse us…” people who have to leave find it hard getting out without making a fuss.
Meanwhile poor Dan is about to realize that there is no way to escape once you made the tragic mistake of sitting near the old geezer. Probably hasn’t had anyone to talk to for a week and is just dying for a good conversation. No, not even the fact that the person who just sat on the empty chair is dripping wet and looking royally pissed-off can hinder the need to say something to sound polite.
“Awful weather, isn’t it?” Oh no, it’s the horrible weather topic served with a compassionate smile that makes you rethink the “farmer” label again. Maybe the man is some kind of therapist, certainly someone who would patiently listen even the most tedious complaint. Grey eyes framed with laughter lines, skin parched like old leather, clearly an outdoors person, someone who has once been exposed to sun, so maybe not someone who spends all his time in rainy Britain. The accent is British though, hard to tell exactly where, somewhere around London certainly. The man is handsome in an old-fashioned way, beard and hair cut neatly and clothes in good condition and clearly chosen because it’s wet outside. Old black umbrella rests against the window so at least this customer will get home without getting soaking wet barring horrible accidents like sudden umbrella-malfunctions.
((Pahoitteluni, että kesti näinkin myöhään vastaamisen kanssa. Koetan parantaa tapani tulevaisuudessa.))
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Post by submarine on Feb 25, 2008 20:57:47 GMT 3
There it was, right there, as unerringly and as surely as a heat-seeking missile zooming towards the only man in the goddamn south pole. Dan didn't know how he had thought he could avoid the godawful conversation about the damn weather even though he had sat right next to an old, countryside man. He didn't take his time to notice the accent or the look that was actually pretty stylished. He only knew that he had been proverbially shot, and now there was no other choice than to answer. He really wasn't in the mood at all, in any way, but there really wasn't an option. It was a social rule, one comments the weather and another one answers it. "It's raining", Dan remarked as dryly as he ever could, hoping it would end the conversation then and there. He really, really wished it would work.
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