C’mon in and have a seat.
As it is freezing with the front door open, I’d quickly usher you through to the kitchen and offer you a seat at the pine table. Having put the kettle on and found a plate for a few custard creams, I’d apologise for being full of cold. You’ve found me with a nasty cough, a sore throat and a painful ear.
While we wait for the tea to brew, I’d tell you how the sale of the house is progressing. About how its become almost routine to mop the floors once a day. About how I’ve become a demon cushion plumper.
I’d bring the tea and biscuits to the table and you’d notice that the dog has stirred in his basket and is sniffing the air. He’d allow you to fuss his ears and comment on how lovely he is, but he’d soon loose interest when he realised that you were obeying the doggy-house-rule of no snacking between meals. He’d emit a big sigh and settle back in to slumber.
You’d also soon realise that The Boy Child is peeking at you from his play room just off the kitchen. He will announce that he is shy, but will soon overcome it when he sees that he has a cup of tea and custard cream waiting on the table for him.
I’d tell you that The Boy Child has broken up for the Easter holidays and that he is looking forward to the arrival of his cousins at the weekend. I’d tell you of our plans to make like tourists for a week and The Boy Child would chip in with the information that he is excited by the thought of going to Legoland.
I might comment on what it is like to live with Autism. That the worst parts are by far the middle-of-the-night wanderings and the constant early starts. I might also mention that The Brainy One and I are exhausted and that, without make-up, I look grey.
Or I might not mention Autism at all.
I would, however, suggest a top-up. Then I’d tell you how both blogging and scrapbooking help me regain my equilibrium. That the recent lunch in honour of Deb and Carrie was amazing and that I count my blessings to have found true friendship with them and Mel and Sian and Amy-on-the-other-side-of-the-world, to name just a few.
Given that the radio is playing quietly, I might talk about my latest favourite song. We’d laugh at how middle-of-the-road my musical tastes have become. As memory keepers, we’d talk about the powerful way in which a song can transport you back in an instant to a definitive period of life from years ago. And we’d laugh at the songs we call the ghosts-of-boyfriends-past.
As you prepared to leave, I’d regret that our time was over and urge you to drop by again very soon. The Boy Child would thank you for coming (he’s nothing if polite). We’d hug and remark on the wonders of finding friendship through blogging.
This post has been brought to you in association with Abi‘s invitation to share a cup of tea.