It's Dark in This Cave

6th January 2012 Friday

My husband leaves the house early to go to London on the train. Like he used to - but not to see clients this time. I ask him where he’s meeting his friends. He can’t remember the name of the place or the tube stop but says he knows how to get there anyway. I have to trust he won’t get lost. He grew up in London so the Tube map must be lodged in his cells somewhere.

I have the whole day to myself. Our lovely carpenter arrives to measure up for floor to ceiling shelves in my husband’s office to display all his weird and wonderful clay creatures. The shelves will replace the four filing cabinets which are echoey empty now. Not suitable storage for heavy products of the imagination.....

I melt fat squares of dark chocolate, stir them into a mess of roasted hazelnuts, sticky cherries and broken digestives - an edible birthday present for a dear friend.....

I drape wet sheets over the radiators.... clean up pussy cat sick on the bedroom carpet....print off the Easyjet tickets for the holiday I booked for us yesterday - a week in March in Portugal.....pack away the Christmas baubles....remember to take flowers- early daffodils - next door as a thank you for looking after the pussy cat when we were away....

And tonight I cry in the car driving back from my seeing my father. His cheeks are sunken. His false teeth are so loose they fall into his mouth. One of the Paracetamol tablets gets lodged under his plate. These are some of the things he says, his eyes closed as if he’s dreaming -

I wonder how Britain will cope.....

It’s dark in this cave but there is brightness outside....

Getting tired walking along this path.....

Eating off this table....chin on the table....

They are very satisfactory these cardigans...

I can’t find him anywhere, can’t reach him at all - this man who was my father.

I know there is a nearly full moon tonight but it’s hiding somewhere - lost in the black weeping sky.