Rocking Horse

I like to look in other people’s windows, I’ve always done it, particularly in the early morning when I walk. I’ve done it too when I was without a home and looked then with longing. Now I look for Christmas trees, lights and decorations. I need the cheer, the lift. They’ve a tree in all flashing glory in one of the flats opposite, though this morning it’s not been turned on. And in a top room in one of the houses along Llanbadarn Road I saw a rocking horse. It wasn’t a very elegant one, a little chunky, but nevertheless a lovely site. I wanted one as child, not to ride especially but to just own. I think a rich friend had one. There used to be one in the window of the middle house along St David’s Road but I haven’t seen it for awhile. I walked a different way this morning, mainly to avoid the wind turning my umbrella inside out. It makes me ratty, it’s such an inelegant thing, like one’s skirt blowing up – all knickers showing. So I saw unfamiliar window displays, one had cotton wool for snow wrapped around the base of two fake trees. There were pine cones frosted with spray-on snow (my mother used to use it I remember the smell), plastic snowflakes stuck to panes and a silver glittery horse in the window of the nail bar on Mill Street.

Ronnie has been found. He was holed-up in a shed and she heard his mewing. I’m pleased. All is well with that part of the world, at least.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.