You just added 'life' to 'boats'
and the Scottish cafe owner is getting involved
with where I put my 'Q'.
We drink green tea with peppermint
and eye up the cheeses. A baby cries,
bashing a plastic plate that drills into our skulls
and her older sister spills a milkshake.
We tut at children let loose in cafes
and get back to our game.
Hungover teenage girls troupe in,
all big woolly scarfs and ordering coffee,
talking about who they kissed,
and who vommed last night.
You win, 236 points to 195,
so we shake hands, fair and square.
We settle up,
treat ourselves to 20p barley sugar lollies
and walk home with collars up
with goat's cheese in a paper bag.
When we get home you will cook
Nigel Slater's butterbean-stuffed-tomatoes
and I will read the papers on the sofa
with my legs crossed and a glass of juice,
and think about my Scrabble loss.
I make it my mission to beat you next time.