Wednesday, September 05, 2007
A house I pass every morning No. 3
There was a time when she was smaller than he, thirty years ago perhaps. She could snuggle up beside him, brightly pink and vulnerable.
But in the meantime, he has shrunk, browned in the sun and wizzened. Now, he pulls his hat down over his ears, pretends she isn't there, towering over him.
He doesn't see how she retains her looks, bright, clean, sexy in a pink now faded, but which still whispers "come and get me".
Hidden behind a tree, away from prying eyes, the neighbours are building an extension...