Paul J Penton – Songwriter

Leftovers- Daily Object Writing- Nov 24

Rows of serving dishes in shining porcelain white. A metal tray full of carved slices of meat on the side board. The air filled with the smell of roasted potatoes and lamb. Lovely. The knife saws through a shell of a crackling potato skin which is dipped in an oil slick of gravy. Creamy potato coats my tongue, and gravy washes it down. Chasing peas around the plate – the only thing I’d eat then…. but I go back for more of the leftovers; another slice or two flops at the end of the fork another potato punctured and a geyser of gravy. There’s not much conversation, just the serious business of eating, the occasional grunt of a chair leg, the squeak of a knife or fork against the plate – so serious this chewing and slicing and leaving nothing behind, take no prisoners, kill the enemy defeat the invader.

Light streams in from the front window where we have the Sunday roast, the leaves on the grand avenue of elms twirl in the breeze like kids handheld windmills, the crystal blue sky punches my eyes through a gauze of white shade cloth. I think about after lunch – getting on the bike, making a ramp and racing at it full pelt. The boards will crack and bend as the bike climbs and then a there’s a moment of freedom and weightlessness as the frame soars. The thud on hitting the ground is jarring – the lunch will be well stirred by the end of the afternoon. Beyond that there’s not much else to do, maybe paint some model soldiers or something or strum guitar for another couple of hours…..