Image adapted from Canva Pro

The smell and taste of cockles at the seaside always takes me to a certain place in a calendar. Calendars are for guidance; experience creates our own. January, was that not the time we discovered schadenfreude? February, all those discussions we had about when and what dustbins needed to be put out. March, I wrote, Elvis prefers rice to pasta. Will he ever understand fusion cooking? The following months brought Summer and created a list of old songs and buying stuff we never needed. October made me giggle. For the life of me I still cannot get to grips with the ingredients in a carbonara sauce. And the days roll on. Months moulding into years, more lists, more stuff. A lost bet, working out the true meaning of left, and sleepless nights worrying where the story ends.

2 thoughts on “Calendars

  1. I love how you give the calendar a personalized touch, Davy. Obviously life isn’t just about marking dates and times. It’s an accumulation of feelings and experiences, memories that we can return to, revisiting that reserved space in time and branding the months and years with those opinionated flavors and bittersweet discoveries. A lovely write! πŸ™‚

    1. Hi, Terveen. I am glad you enjoyed the writing. One of those random thoughts that come to you whilst you are sat at the writing desk and you have to follow the pen. I think we can have calendars in many other things like senses. Imagine a calendar of smells? I might try that on The Dragon’s Den πŸ˜‚ Thank you for your kind and insightful words.

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