Sunday, 6 November 2011

“The gift of the family novelist is to turn the cleaning of a closet into an inventory of love and loss, to scan a poem from a shopping list.”

Hmmmmm, Marilyn Gardner...this sounds awfully worthy. I'm not sure if I'm that virtuous. However, I have FINALLY finished Forever India and now I'm spring-cleaning the house, my In-Box, my desk, my brain, ready to move on to the next thing.

Here's me hard at work. I expect you recognise me, particularly by the smile on my face. You know how much I love housework.

I'm just trying to decide whether my next novel will be about cleaning the sink or mopping the kitchen floor. Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be riveting.

Here's the shopping list poem, anyway.

Standing at the cash register 









I want to juggle red bell peppers,
Throw salt over my shoulder,
Bounce lemons off the walls,
And wish for something simple:
You, making a ham sandwich with mayo,
surprising me with the smell of fresh-baked cookies.

Instead, I am waiting in a long check-out line
With only chicken breasts in my basket
Not wanting to give up my place
To get the toilet paper
I forgot. 

Thanks to Deborah Davis. See, it IS possible.