There she is, behind her radio, her jokey monkey, her burnout out candle, her re-purposed jam jars, her florid handsoap, her washing up liquid, her scraggy pan cleaner, abandoned paintbrushes, her clutter of children’s claywork.
There she is behind a basket of old receipts, boxes of matches, hair clips, unread articles, badges, key rings, fridge magnets, gravy-stained recipe books, her cheapo kitchen cleaner, rarely squirted, her range of hopeless lids to lost containers.
Look beyond at least one decade’s worth of grime and you will see her, dancing while the kettle boils, sipping her tea at all hours, her back turned to fiercely disintegrating pasta while she scribbles in a notebook.
Who is she?
Josephine Corcoran 
Perfect 😀 I will now be thinking of that pile of “hopeless lids”, but especially of “her” dancing and scribbling xx
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“She” is desperately running out of stuff to write (but still finds time to fit a dance in) 🙂
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This is so reassuring, Josephine 🙂
(and other people’s ‘accumulations’ are fascinating) x
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I know what you mean but I sometimes long to live inside an IKEA catalogue…. if you know what I mean 🙂
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Love it!
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Thanks! 🙂
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