The gap between my
lukewarm lasagne going back to the kitchen at the Bagle Brook Beefeater, and a
freshly prepared, hot one replacing it (with profuse apologies) is gratifyingly
filled with the chatter of my great-niece, Ffion, each revelation prefaced by, ‘Lynne?’
‘Ffion?’ ‘Can I tell you something?’:
 |
| Ffion and the £1 special: Chicken Goujons, Chips and Garlic Bread |
A woman on TV who was 101 remembered her little brother being born when she was three. This was her furthest [sic] memory.
When I was in school did other children pick me up? Hannah, her friend, keeps picking her up and she doesn’t like it.
She is four
foot tall.
She didn’t really want to be eight but she didn’t really like being seven.
Mr Doyle, the headmaster, is retiring in July.
She has three money boxes: one Principality and two Hello Kitties.
She is upset with Mittens who scratched Tickles’ nose through the bars of his cage.
She scored the winning goal when Emma tripped.
Iwan doesn’t want to go to Bristol Zoo because of the peacocks.
A newt ran into Miss Trunchbull’s knickers.
She didn’t really want to be eight but she didn’t really like being seven.
Mr Doyle, the headmaster, is retiring in July.
She has three money boxes: one Principality and two Hello Kitties.
She is upset with Mittens who scratched Tickles’ nose through the bars of his cage.
She scored the winning goal when Emma tripped.
Iwan doesn’t want to go to Bristol Zoo because of the peacocks.
A newt ran into Miss Trunchbull’s knickers.
All this and more for the bargain price of £1 – a Beefeater special for kids between 3pm and 5pm. And my lasagne was pretty good too.
 |
| Beefeater Beef Lasagne with rocket and cherry tomatoes |
Now, in my childhood bedroom, I
watch the mist push in from the sea, veiling the prom’s railings, the waste
land in front of Tirmorfa Road, nudging the end of Mam and Dad’s garden. The
cries of seagulls are muted, the sea is a soft rumble.
My ‘furthest’ memory? Either a
yellow dress, bright sunlight and falling against the concrete step
outside the back door and cutting open my chin, or sitting in a sandpit in the back garden, the sand
damp against the back of my bare legs.
Hungry Writing Prompts
- Write a list of ten things you are thinking about now.
- Write about a bargain.
- Write about mist or fog.
- Write about what you find at the bottom of a garden.
- Write about your ‘furthest’ memory.
Comments