Tales From The Town #155: Breakfast In Bed

“Argh!” said Agnes, as she was startled awake by Tina, Ethel and Daniel barging into her room as quietly as they could (which was not very quiet at all) at 7:48am on a Monday morning. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve made you breakfast, Mum!” said Tina, as she handed Agnes a cup of warmish chocolate.

“In bed,” said Daniel, as he held an egg cup holding a boiled egg above his head as proudly as if it was the world cup.

“Be careful with that egg, Daniel,” Agnes said. “The last thing I want is yolk all over the sheets.”

“It’s a hard boiled egg!” Daniel said. “Really hard! Look!”

He dropped it and then caught it neatly in the dainty china egg cup that was his favourite as it bounced up off the floorboards like a rubber ball.

“I see,” said Agnes. “Thank you, Daniel. But what are you all making me breakfast in bed for?”

“Because you’re ill,” said Ethel, who was holding a plate of burnt toast with a faint hint of embarrassment. No way could she do any tricks with this like Daniel could do with his egg.

“In bed!” said Daniel again, throwing the egg against the wall this time and catching it perfectly in the egg cup again before bowing for some imaginary applause.

“I was not ill,” Agnes said. She wasn’t allowed to ever admit to being ill, not even to herself. “I was just a bit tired.”

“For two whole days,” said Tina.

“And two whole nights!” said Ethel.

“IN BED!” Daniel said for a third time, not because it made any sense to say it, but just because it felt like he should say it, just in case.

“Well, thank you very much everyone,” Agnes said. “It’s very kind of you. But I really wasn’t ill, you know?” None of her children looked like they believed her even slightly. “So, erm, where’s Claire? Didn’t she help?”

“She’s in bed,” said Daniel. “Ill.”

“Oh no,” Agnes said. “Poor Claire. She hates being ill. It makes her irrationally angry.”

“She said if you could be ill so could she,” said Tina.

“Then she said she’s not going to school today,” said Ethel.

“NOT EVER AGAIN!” shouted Claire from the other side of the house. “SO THERE!”

“Did you make her breakfast in bed too?” Agnes asked as quietly as she could.

“Daniel offered her his egg,” Tina said.

“But she threw it out the window,” Ethel added.

“That’s how we found out it bounced,” said Daniel, as he juggled the egg for a bit, caught it in its cup one last time, and held it out towards his Mum with a flourish.

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Notes:

1. Written on May 13th, 2024

Tales From The Town #154: Paddling Pool

The best thing about the paddling pool, Tina knew, was pumping it up with the footpump, diligently stepping on the pedal over and over again and watching with pride as it slowly took shape.

The best thing about the paddling pool, Daniel knew, was slowly filling it up with the hose, watching the water form miniature rivers and lakes round the contours of the creases in its base. (If he could have emptied it out and started again every time the water got deep enough to submerge the hose he would have done.)

The best thing about the paddling pool, Ethel knew, was squealing and screaming as loudly and as long as you could while you splashed around in the water. You just weren’t allowed to shriek like that at any other time (except maybe on a rollercoaster, but who has one of those in their garden?).

The best thing about the paddling pool, Claire knew, was secretly turning the hose back on until it overflowed and flooded the garden in a manner as spectacular as a burst dam.

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Notes:

1. Written on May 12th, 2024

Tales From The Town #152: A Tower As Tall As Time

The tower stood on the island just beyond the horizon, walls as smooth and white as bone. It was older than the villages, older than the towns, older than memory, older than myth. It just was, and always had been. The tower was a monument to its own silence and immensity. It signalled nothing but itself.

It had about it an aspect of smoke, as if you could see through it at times, as if it was built from the constant movement of elements that took the appearance of stone but not the substance.

At night you could only tell it was there by the absence of stars, or the half-occluded moon, and even then at times you could swear you glimpsed them still. Lights, perhaps, from impossibly distant rooms.

Or more likely just inventions in our own minds, as they try to fill in all the gaps our eyes have a tendency to leave.

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Notes:

1. Written in May 2023
2. When I wasn’t feeling well
3. And now a year later I’m not feeling well again
4. Which is why I remembered this
5. I expect