The people knew Father was a big football fan, and that’s why they took him with them.
“If you come along too, father, maybe the good Lord will help us pick up a signal from Bulgaria,” quipped a bearded man, who was puffing on a cigarette. “All right, come on, let’s give it a try,” said Father and the others stood aside to let him walk ahead. I walked just behind him. And behind me came the bearded man and the neighbour with the television set, and then another two, neither of whom I knew, but I could hear them making bets; the one with the squeaky voice said Holland would win two-nil. I couldn’t see him, but his voice annoyed me...

• Parohia / The Parish

• Dan Coman