Dolls’ House

I can see it sometimes when the flat across the way from us has their blind pulled up. It looks like a smallish dolls’ house and from another window I think I can see a collection of plastic animals. As far as I know it is a flat share comprising maybe three of four adults, male and female. Whose is the dolls’ house?

He came home with a camembert. It’s a long-running thing with us. He likes the really soggy brie but mostly they are wrapped in cellophane which makes them a messy thing to use. Buy one in paper, I asked. Hence the camembert. A new problem has ensued. It stinks. It is stinking out the fridge. He can’t smell it. It’s your sense of smell, he said.

Monday’s TED talk was about animals and humans. Don’t ask if your dog loves you, one contributor said, but ask who he is. A blackbird flew across my path as I walked home this morning. It chirruped loudly and landed on a wall in front of me. I stopped walking and looked at him. He looked back at me, leaning his head slightly and staring, seemingly out of one eye. Who are you? I asked him. He said nothing. I stood for ages just looking at him. He didn’t move. It was probably seconds. I left before he did. I have work to do. Good morning, Mr Blackbird. See you tomorrow.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.