Shelling peas with Alma Peters From Wales, look you On the terrace at 195 Woolton Road Childwall in suburban Liverpool Listening to her life in service Swansea decades earlier Faithful to her beloved mistress Peggy my mother
An afternoon in the 50s A ritual Preparing the Friday night dinner Roast succulent chicken But not kosher Roast crispy potatoes Fresh garden peas tossed in butter Homemade bread sauce Fresh fruit salad in a pale blue opaque Lalique swirling fish bowl
How I loved traditional Friday nights The Georgian silver Mathew Bolton candlesticks On the dining table Silent flickering candle flames The brochas chanted by my father Head of the family The usual family suspects forever present Watching and waiting to be fed No Alma at the table No Samson our doleful beagle
Alma knew her place in life Below stairs Never forgotten Her faded overalls Her long apron Her wispy thinning grey hair tied in a bun Her rosy cheeks Her sunny smile Her missing teeth
Alma was a loved member of our family Never forgotten RIP
Written in Colin Willcox’s ‘Quiet Writing’ group in Lewes. 12.9.19