He broke as many plates as he took a mop to, chipped most cups he encountered - but it was the pots and pans than really insulted his masculinity. Even the toughest of them had their surfaces scraped, leaving grooves in the non-stick or copper bottoms. No glassware was safe in his company. I blamed… Continue reading Washing-Up
Author: Tessa Calvert
Bad Vibrations
April 2019, a Ladies loo. We stand side by side at the basins, washing our hands - but the other woman's really scrubbing hers, like Lady Macbeth. As well she might, because she's about to commit a crime. I fish out a paper towel - a Handbag Essential; she turns to a machine on the… Continue reading Bad Vibrations
The Red Line
A soft, shrivelled thing lay at the back of the cutlery drawer. Dull brown now, but once a bright, organic orange. A dead carrot. No idea how it got there - so it was clearly a Sign my storage skills were in decline and that my cupboards could do with close inspection. There might be… Continue reading The Red Line
The Father
There's a headstone in Greece with my name on it. The stone stands on a hill - one of thousands - in a war cemetery overlooking the sea. Some of the men buried in this place are unidentified, but not the one who died of wounds received in action in 1944. The inscription is simple:… Continue reading The Father
‘Into the Sky’ and ‘part the Clouds’
Note: this piece was written for a T'ai Chi publication as well as this site. We're spaced around the room, some of us in socks, others in trainers or barefoot, following the flow of instructions...letting our legs 'sink down' or our arms 'float up'. When it comes to 'turn and face the wall', the newest… Continue reading ‘Into the Sky’ and ‘part the Clouds’
Yellow
The plant was summer in a pot. It wouldn't fit into the shopping bag, so I carried it home in my arms. A sunflower. The golden heads had started to droop, as if too heavy for their stems, but soon perked up a bit with a long cool drink. The newest plant on the patio, but… Continue reading Yellow
The Other Woman
The shop near Euston was called 'Transformations'. There were some pretty pink petticoats in the window, so I went in. The lighting was dim, the decor dark - all boudoir drapes, velvet cushions and curtained cubicles - so it took me a moment to realise that all the other customers were men. An assistant appeared from… Continue reading The Other Woman
