After the England Semi Final

Dad has ordered a new shed, he'll site it in the shade replacing the one put out by the local Fire Brigade. The wheelie bin is full of food almost a three course luncheon with sausages as black as coal and harder than a truncheon. Home made sauce clings to the sides like toffee, not that viscous, and burgers that could be re-used on sports days as a discus. Mummy's apron, holed and scorched, no whiskers on the cat, bare lawn where flames extinguished with the neighbour's cricket bat. “Will there be another one next time? we'll have to wait and see” says Dad as he goes to fetch Mum from outside A&E. His frizzled locks like coiled springs, he will not need his comb, but never mind, the family sings- “she's coming home she's coming home she's coming, Mummy's coming home....” (* A&E- Hospital accident and emergency department in the UK)