Patterns In The Wood Grain

Uncle Ted spells newspaper headlines to his niece
As he spreads his toast with butter.
“Malcolm has come in last again,” he says,
“Fifty quid straight down the gutter.”

Our tough, soldier Mum cooks lunch for the in-laws,
Dousing salads with strong vinaigrette.
She seasons the meat with rock salt and pepper,
Whilst roasting the chunks of courgette.

At six years old, in her own little world,
Daisy has nothing to worry, no reason to complain.
Before the table is set, she traces her fingers
Over the patterns in the wood grain.


On Tuesday, we decided to drive to Hell for lunch.
Granny is well, she loves her new home
And it’s a lot nicer since they put the carpet in.
Lucy cooked for us, which was a nice surprise.
The soup was great,
The sea bass was delicate
And the parfait was perfect.
It was quite difficult to find somewhere to park
And the screaming was a little bit too loud
But otherwise, we give it a solid 10/10 – would recommend.
Next time we’ll bring the kids.

For Starters

Please, sink this ship.
Of course, evacuate the people,
The deck hands,
The brass band,
Bring them to safety,
Land for the plenty,
But make sure that soup
Stays onboard
Like a sour, salty captain