Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Child is father of the man

The pantry in the Saltshouse Road house of my childhood was the place for Nigella type browsing amongst the shelves. I would take a spoon to Horlicks, Peanut butter and Ovaltine. I would take Twix bars out of the biscuit tin. Once I opened and ate a whole tin of Condensed milk. How would I get rid of the tin without Mother finding out. I know I will throw it behind the garage where the gap next to the wall is just wide enough for the evidence.
I have seen the jar of Peanut Butter in my cupboard, it is going down. It is not me, it is not spouse, it must be aged parent.

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