It was a deep warehouse with a deep smell. There was a black shield at the front with gold lettering that read: Wholesale Importers and Commission Merchants. Father’s little office was near the front door; he had a wicker armchair and sat at a table desk covered with green baize. There was a cupboard of pigeonholes at the back of the table, and beside was Father’s safe, on top of which was a letter press, an iron thing with a cross handle with two iron knobs which Father screwed down after he had laid one of his neatly written letters in it and somehow or other the letter was duplicated. The window was shuttered halfway up so you could not look out into Wharf Street, which would have been interesting because of the great drays with fine horses passing back and forth. On the other side of Wharf Street in front of father’s store was a railing fence to help people from falling over into a great hollow place of bushes and wild land. Beyond that was the harbour and wharf. On the left of the wharf was the Customs House, square and brick.
What do You think about Opposite Contraries (2003)?
