Friday, 15 November 2013
Host of Memories
Turning his face to the descending ice crystals, he shut his eyes: mmmm. Nice. Then, putting his plate down on a stall, he cut into the pudding with his fork. A sprightly dance of Christmas joined a host of memories in his mouth. That was good. Very good. A light pastry case with mincemeat filling, a thick layer of marzipan ice cream and baked meringue to cover. That was more than good: that made one remember the first ever taste. As porches of warm houses aand memories of parties burst upon his tongue, a girlfriend's warm hand in his, he walked her home in the snowy moonlight. Now he was smiling.