The Black Plush Coat
When I left the lodging house in Kennedy Court I had no money, and my sole stock-in-trade consisted of the two boxes of matches, which, soaked by the last night’s rain, were now dry. I got them off my hands at twopence each; it was too early in the day to get a better price—men grow more generous as the evening approaches!
I craved for a cup of coffee, but I was stern with myself; I would not run the risk of spending half my capital. I therefore bought four more boxes of matches, and determined to effect a speedy sale. I was not content, however, to accept my failure to get employment as a cook as final. Good cooks are always in demand and, as I have said before—l am an extremely good cook. I regard the production of a well-thought-out repast as a piece of creative work every bit as important as a chapter in a novel, let alone a triolet. Why, therefore, should I be debarred from practising my vocation? Surely this was an occasion when personality should be able to surmount the difficulties arising from the absence of what is known as a “character?”