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Another of the worker locals from the gun-shop on the next block south, became a groupie for awhile. He was late thirties, dark hair-short, medium body and weight with a gravelly voice. He was a gun repairman.
So he became absent from our table for some time. The nurse who lived upstairs and who was one of our group in this period, had
attended him over at the hospital. He was working on a gun and it went off and shot him in the penis. Well it was a glancing blow she said, ranging along the length of it but not actually penetrating thru. She thought it would still be usable. Not sure if he came back or not. He might have - but if so not for long.
If I wasn't working for money, I was working up the hill at my pottery shop all the rest of the day after coffee at the commons. I could stay two hours, eight to ten most days. Strictly mornings, and I never went in after ten AM and it was open till ten at night. I never bought any food either. Couldn't afford it. Not that it was expensive but because I was poor. Most of my spare money went for cigarettes and ceramic supplies. The good old days before the political correctness inequality brainchild. Now days you have to be like us. But we will never be like you.
Normally when I was working i also stopped in for an hour, since I didn't start until ten. To five was how my bosses preferred it. We did remodels and in consideration of other tenants in the buildings, we started later in the mornings.
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