My mother was one of thirteen eight boys, five girls a two bed-roomed house but somehow they made do I never met my grandfather my mum talked about him a lot Ive seen pictures of course I would have liked to have met him.. my grandmother was a little woman she liked a bottle of stout smoked consulate if memory serves and she loved the bingo or a game of cards the house always smelled of carbolic soap beeswax and lavender polish front parlour with those lace things on the chairs nic-nacs that we lived in fear of breaking dado rails and porcelain handles on the doors a geyser over the bath that you lit for hot water snap dragons and gladiola in the tiny front garden the strange neighbour with rooms full of stuffed animals dead creatures with sightless eyes we got in trouble for going into his house though no-one would tell us why but I remember he never invited the boys and something about the place gave me the creeps so we stayed on the road played hopscotch with a Piggy made from an old shoe polish tin how I miss those yesterdays... A.c.d
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 23:43:19 +0000
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