Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Hey winter, thanks for coming

Hey winter, thanks for coming, fineliner ©jb

Hey winter, thanks for coming, but, well, I think it's time for you to go. The blossoms are starting to show and I don't want to use the heater anymore. If only I could put you inside this snowdome until I needed you again next year.

Saturday, 25 August 2012

I served mouldy cake to my friends

I served mouldy cake to my friends. Accidentally of course. I had some too. Even then, I’m not entirely sure it was mouldy when I gave it to them. Brought home from the local patisserie in a crisp white box. It tasted fine, looked great. Glazed and glossy with pear slices and almond meal. I think I ate two pieces.

There was some left over. The next day, I admired the leftover cake sitting quietly under the glass cake dome. I love the sight of a beautifully presented cake. It makes my heart sing. With my cup of tea freshly brewed, I took the knife to cut off a slice of moist pear cake. Lifting the dome, I didn’t notice at first, but as I looked down deciding where to place the knife, there it was. Alive and robustly growing outwards like tiny little caterpillar fur. Mould. Lots of it.

Well. Into the bin it went. My cup of tea tasted slightly sad after that. Disappointed that the cake had let down it’s end of the bargain. It was meant to be in my mouth, not the bin.

So, sorry to my friends, hope I didn’t make you sick. Next time you come around, I’ll open a packet of biscuits.

(Although, you never can be certain of anything. I once unwrapped a chocolate bar only to find it had a bite taken out of it. But that’s a story for another time…)

Monday, 20 August 2012

Someone's in the fishtank

Aquarium, fineliner ©jb
Sometimes the strangest things happen and no one blinks an eye. We just get on with things. Or we stop, stand still and wait for something to happen, taking cues from each other before we decide to react.

A siren went off in the shopping centre. Sharp, sickening, the sound filled the air leaving no room for anything else but fear. We all looked to each other for clues. A white haired woman read my face just as I searched hers for answers. What the hell is going on? Is it a fire, a gunman? What should we do, what should we do?

The noise went on and on. I had stopped still near a doorway, pram handles tightly gripped with my little boy looking around apparently unaffected. A female voice spoke through the loudspeakers. This is an emergency, please stand by for further instructions. What? Stupid loudspeaker lady. Give us the instructions now! 

I looked around. Some people were still shopping, walking around like they were in a nightclub, used to the oppressive noise. A woman and her young daughter wandered backwards and forwards nearby and asked me what was happening. I told her that it was best that we stay near the doorway, just in case. But to myself, I wondered if the threat was inside or outside the doors.

So I stood frozen to the spot and waited, prepared to run with my boy if I needed to. The loudspeaker lady spoke again. Attention, the emergency has been resolved, repeat, the emergency has been resolved.

Immediately, as if we'd melted, my fellow frozen shoppers and I moved off our spots, joining the flow of carefree shoppers once again. With no explanation for what had happened, some looked slightly embarrassed, as though they read the situation too seriously. Others, like myself who had children with us gave each other a practical smile as if to say, 'Just doing our job, paying attention and keeping our little ones safe'.