Begging to be cuddled

This image swaddles me in comfort. Christine admits that she adores the beautiful eggplants from her garden, but it is not only the sight of her beloved cuddliest vegetable which calms me. Also there’s nasturtiums like the ones my first cat would nest within to snooze. It was a skinny soot black kitten named Myfanwy “my lovely little one”, rescued, still blind, from a school bus and given to us by a harried teacher. It is the jewel-ish cloudy tomato marbles, and yes of course it is the glorious cuddly eggplant. For me these are the colours of childhood. My mother making vibrant ratatouille when others made grey shepherd’s pie. The Seventies were a time of war, famine, disease and fear, but still there were hessian purple painted walls, and orange flower power prints. There were folks growing nasturtiums, tomatoes and eggplants; and it comforts me enormously that Christine still does today.

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