Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Move over, mothers' meeting and sitting room.

1. In the morning I think I've slept very late and imagine that Rose must be working downstairs. But she's still in bed asleep, so I crawl in with her, and we lie in until nearly 10am.

2. Three mothers with babies sit at a table near us. I think I recognise one of the mothers -- perhaps I went to school with her. We smile at each other, but don't speak. I admire the way the mothers chat and eat and drink with their babies on their arms.

3. My grandmother's sitting room is warm and small, full of photographs and portraits of my family. Thick curtains shut out November, and thoughts of the crossword shut out our problems. I doze in my wingbacked chair, my tea cooling at my side.