THE MULBERRY BUSH

Well it’s a cold and frosty morning, and the mulberry bush is in full swing. I’ve put the heating on.

It’s one of those days when the frost could easily be a drizzle of thin snow, and if you squint, it’s hard to tell the difference. I peeked out over the iced rooftops, watching the pink sky grow white and grey. Everything looked stiff and brittle, as though one falling acorn could shatter the grass and crack the sky.

I’m exhausted. Perhaps going into the office on a Monday was a bad idea; it did feel like a long day. Coupled with a few late nights, and some ongoing sorting of the pod, and the insurance, and the kitchen… the whole thing has been quite tiring.

Rico (our insurance man) thinks we’ll get a settlement today. I imagine him spinning a trilby onto a hatstand, sliding behind his typewriter and tapping out some numbers for us in bold, black ink. I don’t know why.

Once that’s in place we can book in the rest and get going with the repairs and replacement of our stuff. Every now and then I get a little cold sweat that we didn’t calculate enough, or that I forgot to add something important to the inventory. A recurring pattern in all this has been me doing a great job of sorting something, then Sammy pointing out later that I forgot the important bit, or did a thing the wrong way round, or accidentally cost us more money than was needed. So, I’m hoping that that’s not the case with this.

“They can take the pod back whenever they like,” said Sammy yesterday, fed up with the freezing portable kitchen on our driveway. I’ve seen it as a necessity so far, the only way we’re going to get anything cooked, boiled or washed up. I’ve got to admit though, on mornings like this, I’m inclined to agree.