Wait in the centre of the road for the traffic to pass, big cars small cars and then finally a police car.
There is the war memorial monument, the slightly grotesque sculpture of all of those people growing out of a tree.
Finish crossing the road, leave the memorial to all the dead soldiers of two world wars behind.
Enter the small café with the son, and wish the proprietor well. At the table there is the owner of the sports car parked outside, the man is just finishing his breakfast, and his chat with a woman who is very amused to be talking to him.
The son orders a cake with meringue on top, the father has a cup of coffee an a plain croissant. And whilst the coffee is being made, the man and the woman leave. There is a loud roar from outside as the engine of the car starts. It is a very noisy car with a very big engine. An American car.
Sit and enjoy the coffee, look out onto the rainy grey street.
It is the weekend
The son talks about his new interest, tiny cars. There is one advertised, it is a strange device with two seats and a minute motor. It is the antithesis to the American sports car.
Finish the coffee and leave the cafe
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