Story Behind the Painting(s)

The ‘morning after’ progressed from warm to sweltering and with each minute, energy drained from my recovering limbs that were lumps jelly. I plodded through the simple tasks of packing and eating breakfast.

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Disrupt Sleep

The wind worked its gusty fingers under the stiff plastic and lifted it into the air. I caught the sheet and held it down. Cold blasts froze my fingers. The wind flapped the end bits making my toes turn to ice.

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Forced to Simplify

In the light of the half moon, fire, and gas-lamp, Dad prepared a meal of pea and ham soup, damper, and chocolate pudding with custard for dessert. As we licked our plates clean, Dad motioned to my brother (MB). ‘How much money have you got?’
MB stopped mid-way through a swipe of plate, tongue sticking out. He shook his head, and shrugged. ‘Nothing,’ he lisped.

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Meagre Morsels

I wandered off by myself to squander those few precious relics of dried fruit and savour their shrivelled sugary taste. But the meagre morsels were not enough to satisfy my hunger and I cried.

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Clutch, Double-de

‘Slow down! Slow down!’ Dad screeched, his foot pumping the imaginary brake.
‘Yeah, okay, okay!’ I pressed my foot on the clutch and forced the gears down. Crunch!
‘No!’ Dad lurched for the gear stick. ‘Not like that! You have to double-de-clutch.’

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