Your Dad … had a “Ronald Colman” moustache.
He was a good-looking man your dad. All the ladies were after him.
I had to give one or two a piece of my mind.
Tag: Syb
We used to make our own hats … your Aunty and I … back in the 1920s when we were young. You bought your own felt shape, steamed it to fit, put on the trim and …
Voilà!
People used to say I looked like Gloria Swanson … which I did, if I do say so myself.
I can see that it’s sad for you that David Bowie is dead, dear … but I don’t see why you’re quite so bothered about it.
“I think it’s because he was like … my own biographical Zeitgeist, Mum.” What? “… He was the same generation. The same geography when I was a kid. Streets not miles away from mine. I could have gone to the same school. Major Tom in his tin can – Space Oddity – I was at art college when that was playing on the radio.”
Oh, I remember you coming home from college for the holidays. I had to tell you off … your nails were filthy. “That was printing ink, Mum.”
“Time to get ready for Christmas, Mum. I’ve put up those salt dough figures you made. Remember?”
Those? You’ve still got them? Oh… they’re not very good. “They are, Mum. I thought me doing art came from Dad because he was a commercial artist. And I was all serious about it. But I think that what I actually end up making … comes from you.
“Anyway. It’s time to get your hat on…..”
I was going to bed on the first night in the new house. Of course I was on my own because your father had died a long time before that. All of a sudden, I sensed a presence near my bed. Cold, just cold … and I knew it was a ghost.
“What did you do?”
I said… I don’t know who you are but I don’t want you here. Go away.
“Did it?”
Yes.
syb & me 