7.3: Drudgery
One evening, as the Minkey struggles to persuade the hot tap to yield a little more water, it suddenly fires a scalding spurt straight at the Minkey’s face. On instinct, he dodges the jet of water, but, in so doing, knocks his precious ghetto blaster – his only possession – into the sink. Nick Drake’s voice suddenly speeds up, then slows down and then stops and there is the dreadful sound of the cassette tape unspooling inside. With a shriek, the Minkey dives to rescue the machine from the water, receives a sudden electric shock, and slumps to the sticky floor, his head in his hands.
In the snug bar next door, with the warm conviviality of a third round of Toad’s Tipple, the Barman’s regulars have no idea of the disaster in the dismal scullery through that always closed door. But then they hear, somewhat louder than normal, a plaintiff song, today sung unaccompanied by the recorded sound of Nick Drake’s guitar.
Drudgery
It slowly dawns on Bill, the field-frog, that this is the Minkey singing himself. “He’s not bad! He actually sounds like his hero Nick Drake. I’ll mention him to the entertainment correspondent of the paper tomorrow.”
Bill used to be a sound engineer for the BBC and now works part time for the local newspaper: the Westmorland Gazette. He probably means to bring a little interest and local newspaper glamour to the glass washer’s rather dull life.
