HANS & GRETA
Every hour, on the hour, the carved
doors swung open and Hans moved smoothly to meet Greta. Watched by townsfolk
and tourists alike, they leaned towards each other to kiss, then danced to a foot-tapping
peasant tune before parting company.
Behind those closed doors Hans and
Greta lived in a comfortless world of jigsaw lights and intricate draughts,
fires that never stayed lit, curtains blown frantic by every breeze, and
constant chest infections.
One bitter winter day the doors opened
on emptiness - relieved only by a hand-painted sign: ‘Couple wanted. Free accommodation.
Must be reliable.’
..............................................................................................................
Here I am again, after a week off writing while we moved house. We are now living in an old cottage and, although I have some painting and other odd jobs still to do, we are settling in. There are twenty of them, owned by a Village Trust, and we are very lucky to have been offered one.
Must dash - I now have a garden and it's in need of some TLC :)
