Bedtime Story

Mo and Bill use continental quilts since coming back from Canada. They’d emigrated and returned to Abergele with crew cuts. We’d been happy with sheets and camberwick  blankets. They’d kept us warm even on nights so cold you could scrape iced condensation from the glass of the single-glazed sash windows in the bedroom. The frost burned under my nails.

My brother and I shared a bedroom and kept each other awake for hours talking in the light of the hall bulb shining through a square hole above our bedroom door.

My friend Huw Davies  from Abertridwr in south Wales makes me laugh when he tells me about his games with his brother in their shared bedroom. They used to play ‘Who can be the last to fall asleep’:

“Huw?”
“Yeah Glen.”
“You asleep yet?”
“No.”
“Neither am I.”
“OK … g’night.””
“G’night.””
Pause.
“Glen? You asleep yet Glen?”
No answer.
“I won.”
“Another pause.
“Ha ha, only joking. I’m still awake.”

young brothers

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