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A Knock at the Door

March 4, 2016

A knock at the door. I open it to find a young man wearing a tarbard bearing the logo of a charity.

‘Hello, I’m collecting for blahblahblah,’ he announces.

He’s looking very confident for someone who is not supposed to be inside the building. There are rules and a security door. I don’t like the look of him or his dodgy piece of cardboard.

‘I’m sorry but I have my own charities I support,’ I reply.

His smile broadens. ‘So,’ he says, rising to the challenge. ‘Tell me which charities?’

Resisting the urge to ask, ‘So, tell me what your star sign is?’ I bid him farewell and close the door.

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