Heaven sent scent
Sent to remind me
All is not lost
A rose can transport me
To the rose gardens at Hampton Court
Or to a park
When all of this was something that happened to other people in another time, and changed our language here in Britain for ever,
A field of yellow, because we are lucky enough to be able to go for a walk, a sunny field, a happiness field, good enough to adorn the walls of a tiny flat in East London, where perhaps the smell of a neighbour’s coffee drowned in sickly sugar will have the same effect; or perhaps not.
Sugar always reminds me of my father, like a child wanting to eat every sweet on the plate, or the way once you consumed 8 jellies in a row, sweet bouncing child of mine, and us without a care in the world then. Happy as mothers left with children are, not knowing there were others for whom this was a banquet.