TWO: What are three things that could never be photographed?

Butterflies in the stomach, waiting at train stations, airports, bloody docks for godsake, waiting for him to come home.

A whisper upon waking, arm curling over stomach, breath sighing, lips pressing.

Tight feeling in the chest, hurts. Last day.


ONE: What’s your favourite kitchen appliance, and why?

It’s gotta be the kettle, sitting silently in the corner, bumping up against the dish drainer and the ancient toaster. Almost the first switch of the morning, second only to the push of a flush.

Quiet at first (did I actually press it – yes, the light’s on) but bubbles to attention – from another room, a sound easy to confuse with rain on a roof.

Not a fancy kettle – off white, scuffed, short cord attached to loose fitting base, but sturdy. Faithful.

Sometimes forgotten – button pressed two or three times before a hand finally lifts it to fill thin lipped tea cups, striped coffee mugs, a dinted saucepan to boil eggs in a hurry.

Standing at attention, waiting for the call

“Can you flick the kettle on while you’re there?”

Pouring cup after cup of warmth, calm, ritual.