Thoughts of Sunday Tea.

He remembered hearing the ringing of the bell that Sunday. It was 3.15 in the afternoon. Perfect timing. He loved seafood for Sunday tea!

"Mum, mum, the winkle Mans here!"

"Ok, here's the money, go get the usual"

He grabbed the money from his mums hand and ran as fast as he could up the street to where the man was standing with his barrow.

"Hello young Timmy, what you after today then?"

"Pint of brown shrimp, half a pint of winkles and a pint of cockles, please"

The man in the white coat, set about the order in a very, methodical manner. Shrimps first, then the winkles then the cockles.

Timmy knew exactly the order he would do it in and he was right. It had been the same for as long as he could remember.

"There you go son, say hello to your Mum for me!"

"Will do, thanks"

He paid the man and ran off just as fast as he had before.

"Got it Mum, what times Dad back from work?"

"About five, so we'll have tea a soon as your Dad's washed and changed"

"Can't we have it as soon as Dad gets in?"

"No, you know your Dad will want to get washed up first, he'll be covered in coal dust and he'll want to be clean when he eats his tea, it'll only take him half hour, so we can eat at half past five"

"We having salad with it, you know, and onion soaked in vinegar?"

"Yep and some nice slices of bread and butter to go with it"

"What's for afters?"

"How about bread and sugar?"

"Lovely!"

Dad got home, dead on five oclock.

"Dad we've got tea at half past five, go get washed up!"

"How about hello Dad first!"

"Sorry Dad, Hello, now go get washed up!"

"Ok, I'm going!"

Dad laughed and went to the sink, filled it with hot water from the Ascot and stripped to the waist. He then washed his face, neck and under his arms with the flannel on the side of the sink. He dried himself and then went upstairs and changed his trousers and put on a clean vest. He returned looking like a new man.

"Is it my favourite?" he looked at Mum and winked.

"Yes it's your favourite"

"And mine too!" I had to get that bit in, just in case he didn't know.

Mum dished it up, it was like a feast.

He remembered spending time taking the winkles out of their shell with a pin and placing the little black piece of shell onto his face so it looked like he had spots. Dad did the same and they would laugh all the way through tea.

Sunday teas were his favoutite time of the week, him, Mum and Dad all together. No television back then, so there was never any rush to finish, so they would sit at the small kitchen table for hours.

Afterwards they would play cards, he loved sevens and pairs, he was good at those games, sometimes he thought that Dad was letting him win, but then again he was never really sure!

Then Dad would stand up and say. "Ok, time for bed now Tim"

He never argued, just went straight up, got into his pyjamas, then came down to kiss them both goodnight.

As he sat there in his chair, alone in his one bedroom flat, the morphine flowing through his body keeping the pain at bay. His mind wandered back to those lovely Sunday teas, he wanted nice thoughts today because tommorow may never come.