Sunday, January 01, 2006

My front hall

a cane stand chockablock with canes, and an Irish whacking stick, bought over time and by different people; a spittoon, bought from an antique store because "Wouldn't you like one of these?" the rhetorical question where the answer is already a predetermined 'yes' and the 'no' will be given brief consideration before being dismissed; a bright red tool box waiting for a new location to collect dust; a new suitcase, bought to replace the one that I liked infinitely more that was bought in Harrod's sale and was a bright orange leather and no one ever tried to claim it off the baggage carousel; a chair, newly acquired and waiting to be moved; a bay tree, living because I'm no longer looking after it; a hall table with a pie crust edge, impressive because it's indented top and bottom; a punch clock, missing its works; a painted roof slate with the slate hammers crossed over top, hammers destined to be passed down as heirlooms with hazy secondhand memories; and a map of London, the London, postcards pieced together. If we fit all this in our hall, what does the rest of the house look like?