I wasn’t going to do another interview this week, but the guy we had in this afternoon slugged the cheap bottled lager I’ve had in the back for ages, and asked if I’d make him a sandwich. Between bites he chatted and chatted and chatted.
It’s quiet here at the moment. We get a few sleepy crew members from beaten up transport ships, who want coffee and a seat in the corner. All they bring to Buber are parsnipheads and a lack of conversation.
