Fava Beans

Tonight’s soup with crusty bread, as on Saturday, but tonight with Fava beans from Franks.

A dirty window-box overflowing from above when I arrived, poor Mrs Rodriguez, her hand trembling on the watering-can, immensely irritating, splashing on fresh trousers collected from the dry cleaner, a quick bite before the show, War Horse in a West End theatre, Fava beans on a shelf reminding me of my mother on the night that they took my uncle away.

ward twenty-seven,
just after intensive care,
the all-night vigil.