Confetti

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Did a version of this with various odds and ends of veg. Still trying to work out if the caramelised shallots stir-fried with curry powder were a good addition to the mix, or not……https://theanxiouscook.wordpress.com/2013/11/20/a-bi-bim-bap-a-bi-bim-a-bip-bam-tang/

Grief works in funny ways. Had some additions to my library recently, as Mum’s books are gradually being sorted and cleared. I started Edith Wharton’s subtly-observed “The House of Mirth”, but couldn’t finish it. I couldn’t emotionally bear the ultimately self-inflicted tragedies of a complex, aristocratic, fin-de-siècle world utterly removed from my own life experience. However a character’s equally well-observed swift decline and death from terminal illness in Elizabeth Gaskell’s “North & South” was bearable, even though I’d seen the real-life version of the same thing only a couple of months ago.

A piece of silver confetti skipped out of my handbag the other day while I was pulling out my mobile phone. It fell straight onto the grimy floor of the bus. I thought it would look weird if I tried to pick it up, so distracted myself by looking at the extensive flooding on the Deerhide housing estate to the right of the road, the houses now with a second moat of hi-visibility jackets, porta-loos and water-tankers.

The confetti piece was of stiff foil, heart-shaped with a curved spiral embossed. I don’t use that handbag that often, and most memorably was at the wedding of a friend I lost to suicide soon after. I remember the style of confetti…..as I bought it. I still find the odd piece here and there.

If Grief had dandruff it would be wedding confetti. If it had a library it would be yellowed novels, spine-scratched and held together with sellotape.

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