Grandma's Cottage
An amber glow flickered all around the roomthe smell of baked bread filled the airIn the darkened corner among the heirloomsGranddad slumbered in his rocking chair. The fat cat lay purring asleep on his lapthe shell finish pipe lay waiting on the rackhanging on the hatstand was his worn flat capnext to the immaculate Gaberdine mac. His watch ticked quietly beneath his waistcoatworn over the striped collarless shirtdappled and splattered, with spots of Creosotebeneath, the polished boots of the old introvert. The room was dominated by a black lead gratewith side oven and a trivet for the kettlelay there on the rug, the dog would quietly waitfor his owner and master to wake and unsettle. Out the back, in the kitchen, Grandma slaved awaypounding with a dolly in the aluminium tubat the clothes which were gathered together on Sundayfor Monday was wash day, made to wash and scrub The fireplace lay unlit, against a whitewashed wallits mantle enhanced with pelmet neath a fringe,a tin contained cash, should the rent man callold iron on the hearth, made to press and singe. Sleeves rolled up neatly and net upon her hairGran carefully fed the sheet through the manglethose once good sheets were now threadbareforced through rollers they inevitably tangle. Black on the concrete where Granddad polished bootswith brushes and cloths, or with any other means,trays of dirt on the windowsill, showed tiny shootshopefully lovely carrots and award winning beans. The parlour was the best room, Grandma's pride and joyhoused her three piece suite and old oak tablenext to a massive aspidistra which would lieatop an old sideboard, always rocky, unstable. At the bottom of the garden was the wooden loowith newspaper squares hanging on a nail,it was a terrible place when the north wind blewor when you had to use it in the snow, sleet or hail. I remember it as though it were only yesterdayIn my minds eye - I see them standing there,my reminiscences no-one ever can take awaybut money talks and people today don't care. The dust stirs in the memory of my mind,a silent tear falls from my misting eyesas I watch the cottage demolished, redefinedto make way for another great high rise.