They are working away merrily on this late April afternoon, chatting at their tables as they draw pictures about what they think life was like in the Olden Days. I go around the room seeing carts and candles, horses and campfires appearing on the page and as I pass beside the table just near my desk, one of the girls speaks.
"Nice boobs."
I stop and look at her.
"Sorry?"
"Nice boobs" she blushes. She's quiet and a little nervy and generally reluctant to speak up in front of the other children. It's only in the last couple of weeks that she's begun to come out of her shell. I lean my head towards her and cup my hand around my ear to show I don't understand. She tilts back and her eyes slide down to my legs and then I hear her. For the first time. "Nice boots" she whispers and I stare hard at the floor.
"Oh yes, they are, aren't they. Really nice boots.."
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
little recipe..
The first person I met when we moved into this street was a woman named Pearl. She lived next door with her husband, and not long after we arrived I saw them through the window of our sunroom sitting together on a wooden stool in the back yard. They sat close, like a couple of grey sparrows resting beneath the liquid amber tree.
Pearl introduced herself as we stood watering the front garden one morning.
I liked the light in her eyes.
A few months later her husband, Ewan had a heart attack and died. From then on Pearl lived alone. I’d hear her pottering about in the garden and if she was there while I hung out the washing, we’d talk to each other across the fence. One morning she grazed her ankle with a spade while she was digging. Later I went in to ask her to come for a drive with us – it was a hot day and we were going to the beach but she said she felt unwell and I remember seeing a pink bandaid stretched across her foot. The skin around the wound was puffed and shiny. She told me her leg felt sore and that a rest would do her good. It was the last time I spoke to her. By that afternoon her tongue had begun to swell and later the same day her daughter arrived and called for an ambulance to take her to hospital. She died a day or so later of tetany.
I never forgot her.
The morning I’d come home from hospital when Anthony was a baby she’d left a tray of lemon slices on the doorstep. The sun shone, a bird sang and Pearl produced morning tea.
She gave me the recipe for them and here it is:
Lemon Slice
½ lb Morning Coffee Bisc
3 ozs Copha
½ can Condensed Milk
½ cup icing sugar
1 cup coconut
Juice & rind 1 lemon
Method
Place ½ Bisc on a greased tin 9x9. Melt Copha, add milk, coconut, icing sugar and lemon. Mix well & pour over biscuits. Place rest of biscuits on top. When set, ice with lemon icing. Keep in fridge.
* Since Metric, the cans of Cond Milk are a little larger so barely ½ can would be sufficient. P.R.
Pearl's handwritten note is still intact though cookery books and magazines have gathered on top of it in the kitchen drawer. Her recipe endures. Old friendships are a bit like this.
Pearl introduced herself as we stood watering the front garden one morning.
I liked the light in her eyes.
A few months later her husband, Ewan had a heart attack and died. From then on Pearl lived alone. I’d hear her pottering about in the garden and if she was there while I hung out the washing, we’d talk to each other across the fence. One morning she grazed her ankle with a spade while she was digging. Later I went in to ask her to come for a drive with us – it was a hot day and we were going to the beach but she said she felt unwell and I remember seeing a pink bandaid stretched across her foot. The skin around the wound was puffed and shiny. She told me her leg felt sore and that a rest would do her good. It was the last time I spoke to her. By that afternoon her tongue had begun to swell and later the same day her daughter arrived and called for an ambulance to take her to hospital. She died a day or so later of tetany.
I never forgot her.
The morning I’d come home from hospital when Anthony was a baby she’d left a tray of lemon slices on the doorstep. The sun shone, a bird sang and Pearl produced morning tea.
She gave me the recipe for them and here it is:
Lemon Slice
½ lb Morning Coffee Bisc
3 ozs Copha
½ can Condensed Milk
½ cup icing sugar
1 cup coconut
Juice & rind 1 lemon
Method
Place ½ Bisc on a greased tin 9x9. Melt Copha, add milk, coconut, icing sugar and lemon. Mix well & pour over biscuits. Place rest of biscuits on top. When set, ice with lemon icing. Keep in fridge.
* Since Metric, the cans of Cond Milk are a little larger so barely ½ can would be sufficient. P.R.
Pearl's handwritten note is still intact though cookery books and magazines have gathered on top of it in the kitchen drawer. Her recipe endures. Old friendships are a bit like this.
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