My London Day

As the red buses stormed past me I could see, from my position on the kerb, a little head peering from the balcony of the block of flats opposite. It was dad. And I knew that when the lift reached the sixth floor he would turn his face to me and call through to mum "She's here".
And he did.
And the day went as usual, with a microwaved Chicken meal for me and sausage and mash for the old dears. But they're not old dears, not really. My parents could never be old, they are the original young things who burn not only their own candles at both ends but everyone elses. And the light they have always given off has shone like the torch of a rescuer to many in distress. Including me.

Dad was heavy lidded and spoke incessantly about his ailments, mum however, wasn't heavy lidded, having just had an early morning nap. And never speaks of her many ailments.
And so after our munchies Mum and I hit the shops where we bought yet more make-up, her opting for 'Petal' nail polish and me choosing 'Rosebud' lipstick. But it wasn't just Boots the chemist which coveted our money, the Hospice charity shop got some too.
Mum buying yet another murder novel and I another blasted jacket.

Back home to Viennese fancies, tea and conversations about work related issues, EastEnders and the leaving of 'Peggy Mitchell', the World Cup and our part in it, back pain, heartache and the state of British politics with Gordo at the helm.

When it got dark it was time for me to leave, so dad went through his list of what I might have forgotten..."Got your stuff, got your sweets, got your scarf and don't forget your train ticket".
"Yes on all counts" I said obediently and went to the station, passing the red buses and leaving dad on the balcony.