I saw them at the supermarket. A clear crinkly cellophane packet, the contents on display for all to see. To me it looked as if there were a hundred sleeping possums, all curled up their faces scrunched into a ball. Hundreds of them, all packed into the bed of that bag that hung on the wall. I thought I’d take them home, and they were disturbed from their slumber temporarily as they walked the aisles with me, up and down those canyon walls of products, height of consumerism needing to be scaled by well intentioned dollars, or maybe some lazy others.

At home the plastic bags rippled along the corridor as the front door shut behind me, it echoed down the barren hallway, just refinished, the light was sort of airy, not a heavy morning or anything really, just a something kind of morning, that says I’m here ‘play me’.

The kitchen table creaks as I lay down the Mezzaire of shopping bags and search for those nuts From the side board behind, a bowl scrapes and the faucet sings as I fill the kettle that begins a grumble in the corner.

The packet of nuts is convinced to open by two strong arms ripping the packet either side. They parachute drop into the bowl pinging and singing now they are awake and alive. It’s only temporary – they soon go back to their hibernation and inert state until I take one of the oily skins and pop it in my mouth. It crunches about between molars, not too hard, maybe a peanut, try a cashew next , much softer to chew on – like a pillow . Hands jangle around in the depths of the bowl, like catching goldfish they slip away from me too easily…..