"Last night we picnicked on
the top step of our small apartment. It is a farm house block of four
apartments but the building is only two stories high. There are eleven steps up
to our solid green metal door. A black wrought iron set of railings stop us
plunging to the gravel below. Beneath the little washing line we'd strung
across two corners of the upper railings with our hand washed laundry pegged
out to dry, we sat and tore apart country Cobb bread, munched and slurped our
way through juicy fresh pears and my missus demonstrated that she hadn't lost
the ways of her youth. She can still slug down red wine straight from the
bottle neck! "
8 years ago
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