On a warm and sunny afternoon they had climbed out of the small door in the manager's flat and clambered up onto the top of the roof, it was really high but part of it was flat, which made Susie feel a lot safer. Andrew had brought some grub for a picnic and a half bottle of champagne, which they drank out of tatty chipped mugs and chomped on cheese and fresh bread. 'Look at the forest' said Susie 'and the chimneys, can you see the smoke trails, the houses look like toy ones don't they? And she let out a loud burp. After almost a year of being there, the news came that the Dorset was to re-open, having been closed and boarded up, vandalised, set o fire three times, and practically every window smashed and smeared with childish slogans. 'Thanks for tidying up the flat,' he said. All her shoes were in neat rows, her skirts folded; even the large wooden bed had been made. Every piece of kitchenware sparkled. 'Well, I did do a bit yesterday' then she thought for a minute. She had spent most of the day in bed nursing a large hangover after dancing for nearly two hours last night in the car park, semi-naked. Andrew was on the pub roof shooting pigeons and repairing vandalised tiles, cursing loudly when his hand squiggled into a huge pile of crap as his head throbbed from last night's lager session. next »