Author: Tessa Calvert

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 →

The bread's gone missing. When it's not sitting on the acacia board, waiting for action, it's chilling on the middle shelf of the fridge, in its very own drawstring 'fresher for longer' linen bag, super-seeded, with several slices left.  But it isn't. I don't remember finishing it or throwing bits of it to the birds… Continue reading The Loaf →

Outside, a strange man on a machine is digging up my garden. Shifting the earth - scoop after scoop - then dumping it - till a huge brown pile forms against the fence, like a dinosaur dung heap. Suddenly, the machine shudders and stops. The man gets off and frowns, as if he's found something.… Continue reading The Project →

The door is open, but I am afraid to pass through it. Painted white, it belongs to a room on the fifth floor at the end of a long corridor. Inside, the patient's name is written on the wall behind the metal bed. There's a TV suspended above the blanket. A private bathroom and toilet.… Continue reading The Room →

The young man is in a suit, his hair shiny-smooth, with an arrow-straight parting. In his hands, a bunch of red roses. The girl turning towards him wears a bouffant skirt, a headband and a radiant smile. Inside the card - my very first - a forgotten message signed with a question mark. It is… Continue reading Valentine →

Since your last donation, have you been sexually active in Africa?  Had malaria or any unexplained fever? A tooth taken out in the last seven days? Body piercings? I know it well, this form, the questions printed in red, white and black, but a few still puzzle. Have you or any family member come into… Continue reading The Donor →

A letter arrives, inviting me to adopt a donkey for Christmas. This new addition to my family would have fresh straw and carrots for life. A festive thought - have vegetarian tendencies too - but, no. I'm not wild about animals. Maybe it's because childhood pets came to sticky ends. The golden spaniel I once… Continue reading The Home Front →

The new passport takes its first trip. It flies in a pink leather cover inside a mesh bag inside the zipped compartment of my handbag. This Russian doll tendency - the putting of things into other things - makes for creative gift-wrapping and sprang surprises in lunchboxes when my sons were at school, like yoghurt tubes… Continue reading The Cruise →

I was sitting behind her on the tram. Her ears were old - oyster shells clinging to their pearls. Her hair was dyed - a reddish darkness on the nape of the neck - but coiffed and smoothly waved like the water of the lake we were passing. When the tram shuddered round the bends of the… Continue reading Three Women →

On the towpath, bits of black stuff with a slight shimmer. It's late summer now - in the distance, a tractor is making bales of hay. This walk is along the Leeds and Liverpool canal. There used to be a mine near here, the Maypole Colliery. In 1908, many men died deep under this ground.… Continue reading The Waterway →