Tea & Noodles

INT. SAM'S FLAT SAM is sitting in his old armchair, the TV is still blaring image and the unkempt room still looks as archaic as before. SAM picks up a PHOTOGRAPH on his right hand coffee table and stares at it before quickly putting it down as the door knocks SPX: DOOR KNOCK SAM It's open MATT enters, sulkily in a black hoodie. MATT Hi. SAM doesn't pay him any attention, focusing once again on the television screen. MATT (cont'd) I was serving in the tea room while you were away. SAM Hmph. MATT ...did you want some tea? SAM No. MATT impatiently starts to look round at SAM's FLAT. Angle on the TV MATT Why haven't you turned the volume up? SAM I can't hear it anyway. (beat) MATT Right...(pause) I guess I didn't get to introduce myself properly yesterday. SAM You're Matthew, I'm Sam. Now we know each other. MATT I p...

They say the world's a stage, but all they do is rage and rage, for chances lost and chances gained and going round the table again, finding the world in not clear-cut and by means we all get stuck in a rut, a rut so big sometimes we forget, that you know, life's not over yet, we do what we can, we do what we might, then perhaps, just perhaps we can put the world right. Well, go on! What are you waiting for? We're no longer in your way, there's the door.

Going Back I tread the halls and find myself uncomforted,  the walls the same,  the tools the same, the fools still un committed,  the ghosts of my past and present arrive,  imagined or real I struggle and strive, with the world the same and it's people shallow, to find my comfort, I can't. It's hollow. **** I met the Yorkshire Poet on Tuesday called  Ian McMillan  and he was fantastic, so I wrote this in response to the last few days.