I was probably a typical child in that I had a really messy bedroom. I had an extra bed in my room for guests. However it was hard to find the bed under a nice mangle of my clothes (clean and dirty), toys, rocks and twigs I had been playing with, half-finished art projects, etc. But I loved to look good when I went out. On Sunday my clothes were clean, ironed, and I was regal in my kitten heels. I remember my mum saying to me one Sunday, “Ya, you look nice… but if someone sees the room you have come from…”
With Garfield eyes the phone stared at me in silence. Numb I thought, no calls, no texts, nothing but the snoozed alarm. Accustomed to the attention and sweet nothings, the silence was a killer. Constant affirmations of my beauty, deep looks into my eyes,and expression of my worth in the measure of every ounce of love,came not.Security,covering and protection,a masculine figure for a bulb change, aerial fixing and furniture moving all gone.