Author: Tessa Calvert

When I open the new magazine, a lot of leaflets fall out. One is called Caring Solutions - 'mobility aids to independent living'.  One solution sends me into an instant decline.  It's not the walk-in bath, the model in a hideous swimsuit like a corset, or the riser-recliner chair or even the scooter which 'carries… Continue reading Stairs →

Sitting at a table near me, a young man's in love with his laptop, gazing at the screen, while his coffee gets cold.  He's not a regular, not like the woman settled in a corner, who looks as if she lives there. Her hair is white, permed all over into cauliflower curls. She's digging deep… Continue reading The Cafe →

Note: this piece is a short story, based on real events. Berlin, 1945.  In the Fuhrerbunker. The 28th.  I have my own room, with a nice carpet, a comfy sofa with a matching armchair and a single bed. The standard lamp in the corner has a shade of pleated pink silk, like the ones in… Continue reading The End of April →

I'm ready for it.  The routines are complete - doors locked, blinds down.  Make-up off, teeth attended to. Mount the stairs, then put a glass of water within reach. Here comes the night. Read for a bit, turn off the lamp, then sleep for a while - but lightly and not for long. The late… Continue reading Night Visitors →

Two bananas, three times a day, with milk in a small bottle, the size once delivered to schools. That was the first one, to keep a classmate company. We were war babies, with heavy bones from our mothers' extra rations and disgusting dollops of cod liver oil - but we wanted to be sylph-like and… Continue reading The Diet →

I was once a King - or rather, married to one.  Wearing a long purple velvet coat and a single daffodil, I picked up a ballpoint pen and wrote a new surname in a Town Hall register. A spike of a word. It was 1971. I thought it was the Law, that you had to… Continue reading The Signature →

Reach for the jeans, then a vest. Then a top to go over the vest. A jacket, a scarf. Ankle boots, shoulder bag. It's what I wear, most days of the week. Comfort, with a bit of style. Well, that's the idea. Seven easy pieces. A few choices to make: bootcut or straight, spring or… Continue reading The Uniform →