The Woman Who Had Imagination (2014)
“He was so old that it had always been hard for me to realise that he had ever been born. It had always seemed to me that he had simply turned up, very old and imperishable, with his crimson neckerchief and his bloodshot eye as bright as the neckerchief, his earth-coloured breeches, his winey breath, and that huskily devilish voice that had told me so many stories and had left as many tantalizingly half-told. Yet I remember how he would often tell me that he could recollect — the word was his ow...n — standing on a corn-sheaf, in his frocks, and sucking at the breast his mother slipped out of her dress and held down for him in the harvest-field. ‘They had the titty, them days, till they were damn near big enough to reap and tie.’ Though he might very well have made it up. ‘I was allus tidy thirsty,’ he would say at the end of that story, or in fact at the end of any story. ‘Mouthful o’ wine?’ he would say. It was his favourite phrase.
It was early autumn, in the middle of harvest, when I heard that he was dying.MoreLess
It was early autumn, in the middle of harvest, when I heard that he was dying.MoreLess
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