Martin's spoon traced the figures of ancient Chinese peasants etched in the landscape of the blue willowed breakfast plate. A thought scurried across his mind.
‘One day I will go there’.
He paused for a moment, to catch the morning sunlight filtering through the
laced curtain and turned to his aunt standing by the stove.
'Auntie, please, please may I leave the table?'
An approving wink set him free. ‘Aye, go on son’
'Auntie, please, please may I leave the table?'
An approving wink set him free. ‘Aye, go on son’
He darted across the chequered red
and black tiled floor, stuffed his feet into plimsolls, rattled the grated door
mat on the front step and spilled into the farmyard.
The sharp bite of the Derry air, fresh from the Rock Heads that dipped in the North Atlantic blew away the last cobweb of sleep.
The sharp bite of the Derry air, fresh from the Rock Heads that dipped in the North Atlantic blew away the last cobweb of sleep.
