Drink Tokens (Extract)

John and Dave sat against the wall of the bank, watching the hustle and bustle of the town all around them. The cobbled streets were always busy on Saturday afternoon regardless of the weather. With the Arts Festival looming, there was an added excitement in the town. Both domestic and foreign tourists continued to arrive from all corners of the world. Some of the locals were known to avoid the city centre mayhem as much as possible but late night visits for the masses were inevitable. Everybody felt that their year was incomplete without witnessing some of the imported spectacles there. It was a spectacular sight and the city had a magical reputation. Street entertainers thronged the main causeways, eager to show their wares and cash in on their bit of the action. Old hats, guitar cases and buckets sat open in front of them pleading to be filled with any small copper or loose change. The magicians laid out their tables, the human statues painted their faces and the comedians enticed their audience closer to them.

“Come closer, make room for them at the back”, they said, with delight, as they saw the numbers of intrigued onlookers swell.

Parents frowned at being pushed about. Their children giggled with excitement. The drunks stumbled about and stood on their toes trying to see above the heads of the crowd. The good weather had lasted now for a month and was showing no signs of abating. Sun burnt faces and legs dotted the streets. It seemed to both John and Dave that the town’s population had reneged on the usual exotic travel for the comforts of home.

“Jaysus, the whole world and its mother are here this year” said John, before gulping down a long swig from the can of cider, sitting on the ground, in front of him.