pass through my mind each day as i go about life.
I sit in toddler groups with my baby in Deptford and Brockley and feel surrounded by gaggling geese of mothers crooning at their babies and hovering near their little ones. women mostly, a few men, all shrill mostly very middle class squealing with delight or reprimand.
somehow I feel so out of place amongst them and feel rather unsympathetically , that i am in Roald Dahl's Witches convention; I suspect that beneath their wigs their scalps itch and their saliver is blue.
I try to talk to quietly to my child I cannot bear to join the shrill chorus of mothers....'no harry darling...harry....harry no darling give it back to the little girl....oh you clever boy etc. etc..' I dread someone striking up pointless conversation about children ...where you live..... yawn. but my baby loves it, he toddles here and there and picks things up and puts them down; observes and carefully presses buttons and twists handles. he loves to walk.
all the while, I think of her and how she went so sudden and so entirely and I still can scarce believe the reality of her absence.
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