The Cot In The Kitchen

This morning I took a gentle amble down to Roger’s footpath and back. We now have a plentiful crop of snowdrops, more of which adorn the bank in front of the car park of The Royal Oak, in the garden of which,

by fashioning a target, Nick and his friend had put a broken and discarded road sign to good use.

Jackie’s chest infection lingers on, so, unfortunately we had to cancel our trip to watch the Bournemouth Lions Panto, starring our friend Barrie Haynes. I hope it went well.

After a laundry session I rescanned some early colour slides from 1964. In ‘Two Rooms’, I described how Vivien and I had begun our married life in my parents’ house in Wimbledon. There it was that the first of my late wives brought home our son in April that year.

Like many another young couple, our accommodation consisted of one bed-sitting room and a kitchen.

By November Michael slept in a cot in the kitchen. After he’d finished playing, that is.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s exquisite chicken jalfrezi and nutritious onion rice. She drank sparkling water and I drank Marques de Carano gran reserva 2008.


  1. This post feels like spring. Except the part about missing the chance to see your friend. I hope it went well, too. But who can resist snowdrops, boys playing outside, and new life?

  2. I love the pictures of your late wife and son. The places we lived when we were young and we were happy to be there. My grandfather built almost all of the furniture in our first apartment, including a cradle for our daughter, and later, her first bed. I hope Jackie gets well soon.

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