MERMAIDS

MERMAIDS

Long ago I lived in a vicarage which had eight bedrooms but, having been built when people weren’t so concerned with personal hygiene, only one bathroom. Therefore if Pa was in the bath at our bedtime, we cleaned our teeth in the cigarette-scented steamy room, with Pa making sure we brushed for long enough.

One day I was scrubbing my teeth when he said, “You like painting, Lizy – paint me some fish on that wall.”

Several small pots of shiny paint later, a mural of four fish of a kind unknown to Nature adorned the wall, together with some seaweed.

Mum wouldn’t let Pa have a mermaid.

...............................................................................

Memory is an odd thing, and it gets odder as we get older. Jennifer Prendergast's photo should have led to a story about writing, or treasure chests, or toys on the floor, but my mind shot instantly back to my distant childhood, and the thrill of being asked to produce a permanent work of art. I can still see that mural, and smell the combination of steam and cigarette smoke that marked Pa's bathtime.