The Daughters I Never Had.

Albert and his deformed leg

For this week I have been working one day off one day on. 

And apart from meeting up with an old friend this afternoon, all I have done today is sleep.

Feeling that I’ve wasted a bit of the day , I woke up enough this evening to be more productive, and in the warmth of dusk I’ve listened to David Sidaris as I potted up more cheap coloured plants by the back door.

Albert watched me from the sunny garden wall, his deformed  leg stretching out painfully  before him. 

He blinked slowly at me in that silent hello that cats do when when you catch their eye.

Then sat still pretending to be asleep.

He remained there, until the sun shifted and I had retreated to the kitchen in order to oil the work tops and feed the dogs.

The cottage is tidy and I’m pleased.

I sit at the kitchen table and reviewed my to do list.

I didn’t cross anything off today.

In the middle of my list, just under 

Inform car insurance company about my speeding fines

And just above,

Pay fucking vets bill

Was the words

Hattie’s gift

Hattie leaves the village in a few days.

For several years she has lived in one of the cottages by the old post office. They are tiny street based cottages accessed to the rear by a tunnelled ginnel located every third home. and hers had its own pretty little back garden which faced south .

Now she and her boyfriend are moving out of the village to a new build in the next village a jump to their own home which is wonderfully exciting and fortunate in this time where the housing ladder is so difficult for young people to climb.

I will see Hattie in choir of course, but some of me will still miss her move from just around the corner. 

She is a young woman of warmth who possess a big heart and she is a person who has the envious and innate talent for making people smile. 

The villages took her to their heart readily and easily . 

She reminds me of my nephew’s partner, Rebecca who possesses similar traits, the both of them, in my mind ideal daughter material.

The daughters I never had. I thought idly today.

I would have made a good dad me thinks, and I told Albert that when he followed me indoors 

He blinked at me in his agreement

Hattie and I at the Folk concert at the village Hall