There’s a mattress that has clearly been deposited on the Prom by the sea during last week’s storm that someone has propped up against a wall. I passed it this morning during my walk. The water has denuded it of all its stuffing and cloth and now it is just the wire skeleton – a mess of circles and lines all tangled with seaweed. A rather marvellous thing.
She is like her. She hurts me just the same. She doesn’t mean to but she does. I remember buying a present for the other her years ago while on a school trip to Chester Zoo. I spent what seemed like hours in the gift shop with my spending money clutched in my sticky hands trying to find something that would please her. In the end I decided on a little mustard pot and spoon. Looking back it was clearly a tacky thing but I thought it grown-up and I knew she loved mustard. I can’t remember how she received it. I never saw her use it or place it on the table. Did she even keep it?
It wasn’t worth it, she wrote. No, it probably wasn’t.
