Goldfinch

Every Tuesday, two or three or four or five of you sit across two or three or four or five separate tables to tackle the quiz in the back of the paper I’ve never seen the name of. Incorrect answers bounce around the room like a squash ball wondering where to go. Natalie Imbruglia. Chairman Mao. Death of a Salesman. Jaffa Cakes. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. The hunt for double figure points remains alive, the sound of laughter to every failure keeps you coming back, the chance for something to talk about.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

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