Batch 1: 17 May 2008 The wide-eyed children
clustering around the ladder
In the playground:
“Why are you picking
them flowers, miss?”
“Has Mrs Stevenson said
you could pick them flowers, miss?”
The patient explanation to each one:
“I’m making elderflower cordial.
It’s like squash.
You add water to it,
and it tastes like the flowers.”
“Yes, of course!
I would never pick them without
Her permission.”
Batch 2: 27 May 2008
The school is closed
For half-term,
So I try the alley
near my son’s new school.
He’s seen white flowers there,
but isn’t sure if they’re
elderflowers or hawthorn.
In fact, they’re both.
An old lady with a hearing aid:
“Are you making wine or cordial?”
“I’m just making cordial.
I looked at the recipe for wine,
but I was frightened
by the mention of exploding bottles.”
The Nigerian street-sweeper
bellows into his mobile phone.
Then, when the conversation is over,
Silently uses his litter-picker
to pull down
the best-blossomed branches
within my reach.
He keeps going
till my bag is full.
“Thank you so much.
You’ve been really helpful!”
Smile. Nod.
[On the way home,
I buy a kitten.]
1 June 2008
Obviously a sort of "sequel" to "Elderflower Cordial: The Making Thereof" (23 April 2008). Again, very different from anything I've written for ages, both because it is a sort of narrative, but also because I use dialogue. I think the last time I did either, was when I was about 18! The dialogue probably sounds a bit stilted, but is actually as close as I can remember to what was actually said... The 2nd, day in particular, was a very strange, but good day: I had a dentist's appointment, because my temporary crown had fallen out on the way home from a Eurovision Song Contest Party; and because it was a bank holiday weekend, I'd had to wait 3 days to see the dentist. The hole in my tooth felt as big and as knobbly as the ceiling of King's College Chapel... I'd already got an appointment to put in the permanent crown on 2 June, and to my joy, the dentist checked to see if it had come in yet, and it had, so not only did I not have to go round with another temporary crown for a week, but I cld cancel the 2 June appointment! I then went to pick my elderflowers, and had the two nice experiences with the old lady and the street sweeper. I was struck by how doing something unusual makes people talk to you. On the way home, I passed the pet shop, which had a sign up saying "kittens", and just cldn't resist having a look. I think I succumbed to taking one of them home, because we'd stayed the night after the Eurovision party at my friend, Lynny's, house, and they had a litter of Siamese kittens that very evening, which had made both William and I feel horribly "kitten broody"; and I was feeling "full of love" for the world, after my happy experiences, and wanted to have something to pour it onto... I'm not sure if it wld be better if I dropped the kitten bit, as it probably makes it less focused, but my feelings about all the events are tied together...
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