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     Silence.

     ‘Don’t talk to me about silence!’ That’s what he once said to me. I mean, would you believe it? I wasn’t to talk to him about silence. And what would you suppose he meant by that, eh? I’m sure I wouldn’t know. Not hungry, are you? I hope you’re not. I’ve no idea at all what he meant, none at all. Not that I often had. Not most of the time, if it comes right down to it, not if you’d really asked me, not with him. ‘Don’t talk to me about silence.’ Yes, that’s what he said, true as I stand here, verbatim. And more than once, if truth be known. I meant to make you a sandwich. I really did. I meant to make you one. But I forgot. You’re not hungry, though, are you? What did he know about silence, anyway? What I’m saying is, what did he know that was so special, so special, for him to say a thing like that? Fishpaste. Or banana. Or peanut butter. Helps sustain you. I just forgot, that’s all. Not angry at me, are you? You mustn’t be angry. I simply forgot. Went right out of my mind, it did, the way things do. I’ll tell you something else he once said. He said, ‘Silence is what happens when you get too many of the same.’ So what are you to make of that? Too many the same, that’s what he said, without a word of a lie. I mean, it’s not as though he was any sort of an expert on something, not him! You just have to take these things as they come, though, don’t you? No point letting it get through to you. It’d soon get you down if you let it get through to you. That’s a fact, isn’t it? That really is a fact, and no mistake. No, you mustn’t be hungry. Not yet. Nothing like a good sandwich, though, is there, I’d agree with you there. You know sometimes it lasted for days. He’d be so quiet, for days on end sometimes. Did I never tell you? Yes, days on end. Bread. Bread. I got bread in specially, would you believe, and then forgot. Got it in specially in case there might not be any at the weekend, you see. Then I clean forgot all about it. But there you go. These things happen . I did mean to make you one, though. Dates make a good sandwich, I always think. A block of cooking dates sliced very thin, and perhaps with a bit of honey. That makes a really good sandwich. Partial to that, I am. I’m sure I wouldn’t say no to one myself just at the moment. But you can’t afford to let these things upset you, can you? You’d soon be underneath it all, all of it. Days on end, and not a word out of him. And then when he did say anything, it had to be something like, ‘Don’t talk to me about silence.’ What can you do, eh? What can you do? Never mind. Dates is full of vitamins, I read that somewhere. I remember reading it. That’s right, dates and honey. ‘Too many of the same thing,’ I don’t know what that meant. I really don’t know at all. But it’s important for a sandwich to be palatable, I’ll say that for it. If people are going to want to eat it, I mean, it’s the important thing. But silence? I wouldn’t know about silence, God’s honest truth I wouldn’t. Are you really sure you’re not hungry? I do hope you’re really not. It would worry me to think you were hungry after me forgetting to make you that sandwich. Just slipped my mind that’s all. I meant to do it. How is it these things can just slip your mind? No-one knows the answer to that, do they? Not to that or anything else, for that matter. Not if you ask me. No. All those days, all those weeks. What would you have done, eh? Silence is too many of the same thing, eh? So why don’t you say something? Why don’t you say something to me? Eh? Is it because of the sandwich, is that what it is? No, it’s not the sandwich. I’ve had you for years and you’ve never said a word to me. Not one solitary. All my life, it sometimes seems, and never a word. But you’ll learn. Take my word for it, you’ll learn your lesson soon enough, just like the rest of us have had to. Still, never mind, eh? All good things come to an end. But next time I won’t forget. I’ll make you a really delicious sandwich. That’s a promise. Truly it is. Eh?