THE PAUSE

by James Woodard
3rd November 2025

 

Do you remember those afternoons when you were taken 'visiting'.....

 

                                                     THE PAUSE

 

 

Five to six.

    Nearly

teatime.

 

SIT STILL!

 

Turkey patterned carpet, deeply twisted worn woollie pile. An exotic isle set down in a sea of  shiny parquet. Patchy, out of focus sunlight lately bounced from yellowed old gloss-painted shutters.  Outside sealed off… spotless, speckless, markless window glass. 

Relations, pre-digital relations. Post digital neighbours

 

Five to six.

    nearly

teatime.

 

Rocking chair ….in motions slow, propelled by slippered, stockinged ankles and nyloned knees. Mantelpiece, fireguard, hearth, ashes. Coal  above Ccinders. Clocks out of sync: halted, paused, stopped, ceased. Hours and hours and hours ago.

Small smoke nearly flickers interest, nearly wisps aloft.

 

Five to six.

    nearly

teatime.

 

Auntie George took sick during the war. Her Bert didn’t come back. 

Tillie thought the  docks were– 

The new ones  at No 17 might– 

Brick lane market useterbe– 

What with the price of –

Course, the neighbours they can be so–

 

Nicely lined up, dust free, enshelved and glazed unopened books frowning at Turkey pattern. 

                   Turkey pattern returns frown.

Atmosphere fixed in glaze. Sniffs of last autumns apples, damp newspaper. Maid left forty Edwardian butlered empantried years ago. Turkey pattern outglared her!

 

Five to six,

    nearly

Teatime.

 

STOP FIDGETING

 

Army of empty wine glasses paying regulation attention 

Since they closed the–

They keep it on their drive you know–

They won’t deliver any more , they just don’t want to work, should bring back the–

I know, we would get one but–

Shame about Cousin Pete –

Mrs Wilberforce ususally organises the–

Of course we kept them brass bell  pulls–

 

Five to six,

    nearly

Teatime.

 

Brown futtering sparroid chattered wingily past window-glass, sparky life out there in neo-classical proportions of birdbathed lawnliness.

Shouts of hate, screams, mock dangers, comparisons of shoes (brownwunza best)., bicycles in chasing circles. Who wantsterbe it?  Putcher spuds up. Eeny meeny mackeracker dareye dominacker. Off ground touch. 

Fairies and witches???. Yer gotter growupabit 

Putcher spuds up …c’mon.

OUT THERE, Torn twixt kissing with Ellen and kicking the ball. Outside: miles away.

 

Six o’clock.

Teatime

 

SAY PLEASE

 

Saucered cups of tea,  clumps of Battenburg lumps, silver trayed sticky quartered icing slices.

Brown bread tiangle sandwiches, peanut butter. 

 

SAY THANK YOU 

FOR HAVING US

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