A Writer's Wonderland [PDF] - University of Portsmouth

Athea Husted
First year Creative Writing and English student.
Monday
We’re in the kitchen. The shiny kettle wobbles about,
preparing to rocket into outer space as steam erupts from the spout and crawls around the
kitchen, pressed down by the cupboards mounted on the wall. The conservatory, like a glass
bubble, captures the light of summer and bathes the room in it, including us. I am happy, I am
safe. Every Monday, I dash home from lessons at 11 o’clock because I prefer to spend my three
hour break surrounded by familiarity and comfort, rather than wandering pointlessly about the
vast emptiness of the college. Mum is in the kitchen, ironing and quietly filling the house with
love. She pauses ‘Holby City’ on the iPlayer as I come in, dumping the accessories of my
education about the house and asks me about my day. Enthusiastically, I relieve myself of the
anger perched in my mind about an idiot driver, or update her on the latest developments of my
friend’s eccentric love life. I stop the stream of my day only to ask her if she wants a cup of tea –
as always, the answer is ‘yes’.
This Monday, however, is different. My little brother, Nathan, has no school because of
an inset day so he’s at home ‘Driving me barmy,’ Mum tells me. I smile because I know it’s true.
He’s okay for the moment though, as I can hear him half-muttering the Scooby-Doo theme in a
sing-song voice so he’s occupied and probably has his eyes glued to the screen, completely
mesmerised by everyone’s favourite talking dog. The conversation moves onto how the new
Scooby-Doo could never outdo the old original. I’m only seventeen but I’m already old enough
to reminisce about dated cartoons and penny sweets.
We’re in the process of debating the pros and cons of ‘Tutti Fruities’ and ‘Black Jacks’
when Nate comes crashing into the room, clearly unable to entertain himself for all of the two
minute advert break. His dinosaur roar stops our conversation dead and his light blue eyes glint
impishly. He knows he’s being cheeky, interrupting our conversation, but he loves the attention
and can’t keep the excited, toothy grin from his lips. Nate raises a little leg high and stomps it
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