Pollockshields pipe smoker man
At a café in Pollockshields, this man, approached very slowly. He was old and moved stiffly. He stood outside the café looking in. The woman in the café acknowledge him and he gave a subtle nod and sat himself in a chair outside.
He was puffing away at his pipe continually and contentedly. The woman in the café brought out his drink. This is clearly a daily unspoken ritual.
He had hands like tree branches and skin like bark. A dog (a Scottie) on the next table started barking at traffic. The pipe smoker man slowly reached in a bag and pulled out a packet of dog treats. He struggled to open the foil wrap and the woman in the café, who was by now sat chatting with him for company, reached over and took the treats and opened them. She handed them back, wiped her hands on her apron and came back inside. Not a word, was spoken in this transaction.
The pipe smoker man leaned over the table and the Scottie licked its lips and gingerly took the treat from the mans stubby twig fingers.
