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In Which We Go All Good Life ...
“I’ve changed my mind about that pot”, said K moving all the recently planted geraniums over to another container.
At that moment I didn’t mind where there were going. I was half way up a ladder and balanced with one foot on the back fence and wondering just where the people in A and E would be pulling splinters from if it gave way.
I haven’t smelt roofing felt in the sun for many, many years. “Have you done this before then?”, asked K as I sliced off another length from the roll. I had but that was with my father thirty five years ago.
Up close it smells the same and with the sun on my back and my balance a little steadier I close my eyes and drift back all those years.
