Painted Love Letters
“He said by the time I was sixteen we’d be rich. We’d celebrate my birthday in Paris, the city of art and lovers. Mum said, ‘Don’t put ideas in her head, Dave Grainger. Chrissie, don’t listen to him,’ and flicked her tea towel at him but later she pulled down one of Dad’s art books and showed me paintings of people dancing in Paris and a Paris pub which looked a lot posher than the Station Hotel.
I didn’t want to go to Paris, even though the pictures looked nice. We’d only been in Nurralloo for ...one-and-a-half-years. I’d had to change schools halfway through the year and explain to everyone all over again that my father was an artist and that’s why he stayed at home and didn’t work like the other dads, driving trucks for the council or farming. I’ve already been in three schools and lived in one city, one big town, seven houses, one flat and a caravan park since I was born.
When I couldn’t sleep I used to lie in bed counting them on my fingers and trying to remember each place.MoreLess
I didn’t want to go to Paris, even though the pictures looked nice. We’d only been in Nurralloo for ...one-and-a-half-years. I’d had to change schools halfway through the year and explain to everyone all over again that my father was an artist and that’s why he stayed at home and didn’t work like the other dads, driving trucks for the council or farming. I’ve already been in three schools and lived in one city, one big town, seven houses, one flat and a caravan park since I was born.
When I couldn’t sleep I used to lie in bed counting them on my fingers and trying to remember each place.MoreLess
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