Posted Tuesday, November 24th, 2009
Nat wandered home enjoying the wetness. 'Hi Jazz.' She rubbed the cat's ears.' Want some food do you? Are you starving?' She was tempted to have a shower first, but her well brought up sense of duty, reminded her that cats, dogs, children and old ladies were more important than her self. If she got pneumonia she could say it was because of the cat, and people would think she was wonderful.
Nat wasn't into housework that week. She took the spoon she hadn't washed this morning, from the dishwasher and spooned cat tuna into a bowl. 'It's a good idea Jazz, this food thing.' Nat poured the dry packet of noodles and pink dust into a glass bowl.
She used to set the table, but now merely sat on the floor in front of the TV with an ironed cloth napkin in an unshone silver napkin ring, by her side. Nat pushed the microwave buttons and watched the cheese and milk bubble amongst the noodles.
Was she lonely? She enjoyed having only one set of dishes to wash, but occasionally longed to wash two matching cups, reminders of conversations about French feminism, and iron clothes she didn't have to wear.
When she thought this, she read a school story which always had good sensible mothers and good looking prefects. Having neither a sensible mother nor a private school education, well brought up for all that, Nat was able to remember that not everyone got married these days, and living alone meant you didn't have to eat broccoli.
Comments [post a comment]
Posted by SALOME DAMON on Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009 at 2:55 AM
Oh, yes, how some of us end up, but we are happy sometimes to be alone.
Posted by Saleh Razzouk [ firstname.lastname@example.org
] on Wednesday, December 16th, 2009 at 8:12 AM
nice speculations based on some crosscultural gound ( french and australian ). look how far the french got on with FEMINISM ( in capial