The cottage is very quiet.
The only sound is the clock ticking behind me.
The smell of beeswax furniture polish lingers in the air, I polished the piano. Mr.Crouch, our piano tuner, came with his box of tricks , put on his apron, slurped one mouthful of milky tea and set about making my boudoir grand even grander.
The cat is caught between two cushions, comfortably slumped on the armchair.
The door is locked and the rain is still drip, drip, dripping.
Brighton Bunting
I can smell the soup. Onions and garlic. Chinese cabbage. Parsley. Basil. 5 green chilies. 2 Courgettes. Sweated, boiled, simmered, zzuzzhed. We were going to see ‘Prometheus’, or ‘Men in Black’, but three star reviews have put me off. So, as the rain falls, we’ll stay in, eat the soup and watch a bit of … Read more