“Emily’s gone. No, she won’t ever come back. Ever. What? OF COURSE NOT, she HASN’T DIED, you idiot!! She has gone. Gone-gone-gone, walked away…SHE LEFT ME, PETE!!!” Jimmy shouted to the phone. “ You dumb coffe-maker”.
“I’m not a coffee maker. I’m a professional barman, you know it, Jimmy. Anyway”, added Pete. “I’m sorry, mate. Why did she broke up with you?”
“DON’T….don’t say that word, please. ‘Broke up’. It sounds so…I don’t know…dramatic. As she’s really, really not coming back for ever. Neither in a month, or a year, or…I don’t know. I want her back, Pete, really. I WANT HER BACK!”
“I know, Jim, I can understand. She really had a great back.”
That’s how the story starts. From the end of an other story. In Italy we say: when a door has been closed, a big door (I mean, really big) opens to you. More or less. Anyway: hi everybody, I’m Pete, real name Pietro. I’m an italian tall, nice and pretty goodlooking guy – let’s say handsome – who moved here in London about three years ago to improve the fine art of making drinks. Yes, just as Tom Cruise in that movie from the eighties…excepting the fact hat I’m a bit taller than him. And better in throwing glasses. And italian, so better in sex, too. Anyway…where was I going for? Oh yes, I was introducing myself to you. So…oh, but I should tell you the story from the beginnig, shouldn’t I? Uff, what a hard work. I adore speaking about myself, and I have to write a book about my strange friend Jimmy…Anyway, let’s begin.
James Patrick Morgan went to London about ten years ago, when he only was twenty-something. He barely finished high school in Navan, Ireland, the city where he was born, and since his parents had get tired of his idleness they forced him to get a real job, or get away from home. So he went to UK, where he had some friends, and started to work hither and yon doing many things, including: a bakery, a video-shop, an indian restaurant and a cemetery (he was hired as a graveyard keeper, but was so afraid during the first night that ended up getting drunk. H was found the next morning asleep and half-naked, hugging a woman-shaped statue. Rumors said that, as soon as he was woken up by the people ho had hired him the day before, he started shouting at them calling them “fucking zombies”, and tryed to turn them away threatening them with two wooden sticks cross-like arranged, and then even throwing them the sticks. But he has never admitted it). Anyway, after some years of random working, he found this little messy antique shop in the East End, a couple of blocks from Brick Lane, where an old and tired antiquarian was selling his activity. Jimmy asked for a loan and bought the business – antique objects have always been his greatest passion. Together with smoking and drinking beer and wine…as he himself says: “Man are like bagpipes. No sound comes from them ’till they’re full” -. Almost a year ago he met Emily, a lovely teacher who bought the ugliest lampshade of the shop. He fell in love with her at first sight, and, for some inexplicable reason, she liked Jimmy too, and started to date him. They’ve been together for a little more than 8 months. Until yesterday, whan she ‘came back to her senses’ and decided to leave him. Possibly after realizing how eccentric, bizarre…well, peculiar Jimmy is.