The laminate flooring squeaked every time I stepped on it, whether wearing shoes or not, and the slightly warped edges of the planks snagged my socks.
It had to go.
We summonsed up a young man with a crowbar and a hammer to rip it up. All too quickly he exposed the surface underneath … Novilon.
This took me right back to the 70’s and I was a kid bursting through the kitchen door, dripping wet from swimming and leaving a trail of grassy footprints to the fridge. Avocado green, dusty pink, lemon yellow, chocolate brown — these are the colours I remember in kitchens, bathrooms and toilets. Our homes ran wild with these colours and patterns, vinyl covered the floors and ceramic tiles adorned the walls.
Jack ran around the forest and left the ferns heavy with his frozen breath, longing for the sun, while singing
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
Oh Okaay, I’ve been reading Robert Frost, the same Robert who once told his students that
“They used to sprinkle beer from a watering can on the sidewalks outside the bar room to bring in the young. The smell tempted them inside. That’s the way it should be with literature and poetry in college.”
This is a very good thing. Well, you know what I mean, it’s a picture of a skylight that’s not leaking, which is a very good thing. We had two skylights installed to let the light in. I was really nervous when they came and couldn’t watch. I mean, why cut two large holes in a perfectly good roof of a cabin on the west coast of B.C. where it RAINS a LOT.
But I need light, so as long as the light pours in and not the rain, it’s a good thing. It’s a very good thing.
Bewley’s Coffee Shop, Grafton Street, Dublin, was where my parents met, or rather, had their first date. It was 1940-something, after World War II, but it was The Great War that brought them together.
Let me explain.
My Oupa, a young pilot in The Royal Flying Corps, was stationed in Ireland during 1916. He was one of the fortunate few, he continued his education and practised in London, before returning to Cape Town in 1928 with his wife and their baby son.
Years later he told my father,
"Irish girls are the most beautiful girls in the world."
So, when my dad finished high school he enrolled at Trinity College, Dublin. Quite simple.
It goes without saying that I have an Irish mother. Which makes me half Irish to be sure, but I’m not sure which half — the top or the bottom?
On one of my many visits to Ireland I bought this box of tea. The original tea bags have long since been enjoyed, but I still use the box, lest I forget.