My Aunt had immigrated to New Zealand and we decided to meet up in Hammersmith.
Her family had kindly agreed to accommodate me for our reunion.
D, our host was a sweet and welcoming hostess and our room was comfy and warm.
She showed us around her beautiful home, lovingly showing off her prized antiques and cherished collections. Her knowledge grown over years, their value - priceless.
We were left to catch up on ten years of news.
We chatted till the early hours and woke to snow and a steaming pot of tea.
I groggily donned a thick white gown and headed for the little room.
It was a very little room.
It was only big enough to walk in, shut the door, turn and sit.
As I closed the door and turned, I brought my arm up to my head.
The porcelain toilet roll holder came loose and described an arc above my head.
I looked up in horror, turning and reaching up desperately at the same time.
I watched it’s decent, hands fluttering.
The sharp splintering sound as it landed in the antique toilet bowl, brought D running.
I slid down to the floor with my head in my hands.
I prayed that this time I WAS dreaming.
London 2004
No comments:
Post a Comment