Dreamed on Pulau Tiga 2004
I was living with my parents and brother Bob in a shabby 1940s style council house on Dinham in Ludlow: the road that leads down from the castle to the river.We were very poor but my mother had made a huge effort for Christmas, decorating the house with tinsel and holly, and buying and making all kinds of tasty delicacies we could not usually afford.
On Boxing Day my friend Bill came around to wish us the season's greetings and I felt obliged to offer him a drink. But there was nothing alchohiolic in the house.. So leaving Bill seated in the front room I went off in search of an off-licence where I could buy a bottle of wine.
As I left the house I heard Bob having a violent argument with my mother. Overwhelmed with the all work of preparing for our Chistmas she had decided to send the washing to the laudry rather than do it herself. Bob was outraged that she had spent money on having his shirts washed in such a profligate way. He would rather have washed them himself and had the money to spend on a night out, he claimed. Finally he hurled the glass he was holding in his hand to the floor and stormed past me out of the house, then drove off in our old grey Austin A35 (Cars had sensible numbers and names in those days ) van.
I left my mother in tears and went in search of wine.
I tried every off-licence in Ludlow - there were two in those days, if I remember correctly - but they were all closed so I returned empty handed.
As I came back from my long and futile seach and drew near to the house Bob drovepast me and drew up where the house should have been.
There was nothing there but a damp rubbish strewn patch of earth.
Bob got out of the van and stood puzzled for a few moments before he began to search the ground that where our home once stood. I hurried forward and joined him in his search.
We searched among a litter of broken china, sodden papers and potato peelings,but found nothing. Then Bob gave a cry and I raced over to him where he stood bent over our old coffee machine.
There amongst the damp coffee gounds inside the pot was our house. Bob lifted it out and carefully placed it on the goround .Instantly it became full sized once again and just as it had been when we had left it.
" I wouldn't use that coffee machine again." said an old man in a flat cap whose brown leathery face told of a life working out in the fields. He had been standing on the pavement leaning on his walking stick wtching us while we searched.
" I'll use the machine but I won't buy that Columbian coffee again!' Bob snorted.
I was living with my parents and brother Bob in a shabby 1940s style council house on Dinham in Ludlow: the road that leads down from the castle to the river.We were very poor but my mother had made a huge effort for Christmas, decorating the house with tinsel and holly, and buying and making all kinds of tasty delicacies we could not usually afford.
On Boxing Day my friend Bill came around to wish us the season's greetings and I felt obliged to offer him a drink. But there was nothing alchohiolic in the house.. So leaving Bill seated in the front room I went off in search of an off-licence where I could buy a bottle of wine.
As I left the house I heard Bob having a violent argument with my mother. Overwhelmed with the all work of preparing for our Chistmas she had decided to send the washing to the laudry rather than do it herself. Bob was outraged that she had spent money on having his shirts washed in such a profligate way. He would rather have washed them himself and had the money to spend on a night out, he claimed. Finally he hurled the glass he was holding in his hand to the floor and stormed past me out of the house, then drove off in our old grey Austin A35 (Cars had sensible numbers and names in those days ) van.
I left my mother in tears and went in search of wine.
I tried every off-licence in Ludlow - there were two in those days, if I remember correctly - but they were all closed so I returned empty handed.
As I came back from my long and futile seach and drew near to the house Bob drovepast me and drew up where the house should have been.
There was nothing there but a damp rubbish strewn patch of earth.
Bob got out of the van and stood puzzled for a few moments before he began to search the ground that where our home once stood. I hurried forward and joined him in his search.
We searched among a litter of broken china, sodden papers and potato peelings,but found nothing. Then Bob gave a cry and I raced over to him where he stood bent over our old coffee machine.
There amongst the damp coffee gounds inside the pot was our house. Bob lifted it out and carefully placed it on the goround .Instantly it became full sized once again and just as it had been when we had left it.
" I wouldn't use that coffee machine again." said an old man in a flat cap whose brown leathery face told of a life working out in the fields. He had been standing on the pavement leaning on his walking stick wtching us while we searched.
" I'll use the machine but I won't buy that Columbian coffee again!' Bob snorted.