This blog is basically what the title says! I am an avid reader, I adore books; their contents, their pages, their feel, their binding, their magic. I love books, i can read but can i write?
Friday, 10 May 2013
Inflated memories of a nan
Home cooking, smell so pungent. Nostalgic even. 50’s
housewife, pinafore, cooking in heels. Window open letting in a syrupy warm
breeze. Carrying the smell to the neighbouring house, knock on the window. Instead
of 1 there is now 3 for tea plus a toddler too. Fine china, flower patterns,
gingham rag . Spuds, carrots, parsnips, thick gooey gravy. Scraps for the
shaggy dog. Cat Is hovering nearby, meowing a soft familiar sound. Sniffing around
the plates. SHOO! SCRAM! Claw screeching, THUD. Pleasantries said. Clinking of
silver, the loudness of chewing and low level “mmm”’s. Silence. Warm kitchen,
empty plates, full bellies, wide smiles. Thank you’s. Jelly and custard on the
floor, “oh im so sorry, let me get that”, that gingham rag comes in useful. Cat
already fighting the dog over who gets first lick, SHOO! “get ouuuut of it!!”
cockney accent. Hugs and goodbyes, pinching of sweet cheeks. The washing up can
wait. Kicks of heels, AHHHH! Slips on
slippers, falls helplessly onto moth eaten armchair. Silence. Cats slinks into
the living room, climbs up arm chair. Snuggles onto lap. Dog sits by feet. All is
quiet. Fur floating in the air. Wedding ring on an old swollen finger stroking
that equally as old bony spine. Aniseed sweets, tobacco, mouldy furniture. Patch
work quilt. Sweet life.
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