Saturday, October 12, 2013

Lost, forgotten and shut.

1. The man carrying our pushchair and leading the way is walking too quickly. I don't want to lose him in the maze of corridors and I don't want to hold him up when he has been so kind. I look back and can't see Alec round the bend of the spiral stairs. The man is disappearing into the darkness. I am about to ask him to wait when I see Alec stumping grimly up the stone steps, banister in one hand, his yellow pot in the other. Later he tells me that he was 'prightened because I couldn't see you, but I kept going and then I did see you and I wasn't prightened any more.'

2. When we talk about it later, Alec doesn't remember that I was cross at having to pack up our picnic twice because he wanted to go to the loo. He remembers that I was pleased with him for using the pot, and that we had some cakey.

3. To shut the door on the rainy street.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Comment Moderation is switched on: don't be alarmed if your comment doesn't appear right away.