Can’t Hear, Won’t Hear

I’m waiting, shamefacedly, for my appointment with the audiologist at a leading high street retailer where Mother bought her hearing aid. The staff eye me furtively because this is my sixth appointment in a fortnight which they know can only mean one thing: Mother still refuses to believe her hearing aid works. They’re right. IContinue reading “Can’t Hear, Won’t Hear”

Blue Suede Shoes

Mother is holding a glass jar of orange marmalade in her left hand while she lances a knife into the jars’ mouth with her right, nervously, as if she were extracting honey from a beehive. Her hands tremble so the knife ricochets back and forth against the glass as if she were playing a triangleContinue reading “Blue Suede Shoes”

Rice pudding killed my Father

I am making chocolate rice pudding when my Mother asks me if I plan to poison her. She’s crept up next to me at the stove and is pointing at the pudding with a wooden spoon.   ‘Not yet. Though if you stir the pudding while I am trying to mix the rice with the meltedContinue reading “Rice pudding killed my Father”