We had arranged to meet at a swanky coffee house in the posh part of Sinsbury. Truth be told the entire town of Sinsbury was the posh part, no beat-up cars round here and no downmarket stores on the high street. Classy fashion boutiques with price tags to match. I had moved here a few years ago, and it suited me down to the ground.
Except there was a distinct shortage of available men. It’s a bit tiresome being the only single at a dinner party. Surely it wasn’t too much to ask to find a decent bloke with a decent income. That is how I had found myself chatting on a dating app to a guy called Stef. He was good-looking and a local man. Somehow, I had missed seeing him out and about.
I sat at one of the corner tables while Stef got the coffees. He was as good-looking in the flesh, a son of one of the local country set folks with a big house out in the quite countryside of Sinsbury. He put the cups down on the table and removed his jacket. I nearly choked as I sipped my coffee, his tee-shirt had ‘Keep the Ban’ slashed all over it.
‘Are you a sab,’ I asked.
‘Very much so,’ he said.
‘Bet your parents really love that.’
‘Of course, my dad is a world-renowned naturalist and both he and mum are keen environmentalists. Always off somewhere defending the planet.’
Well, I wouldn’t be getting into the hunt balls with Stef anytime soon, would I?
©JG Farmer 2020
