The book club sits for coffee.
“I don’t dislike gay people but I wouldn’t like my son to be.”, says Betty.
I’m a gay man and straightforward.
Betty’s a bigot.
I won’t get into this.
Oh god no!
It’ll turn into Dr. Phil or Jeremy Kyle. My fellow book club members won’t allow me and Betty to politely have this out. They’ll say it’s her generation, religion. If those old chestnuts fail, her childhood, how she may not have known love. Instead I look at the glass bowl, hold back my thoughts, say with a smile,
“Another Custard Cream Betty?”
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