The Harp

An evening with my grandfather – part 2

As my grandfather turns the last page of the album the spell is broken and I am instantly transported back from the wild days of colonial South Africa, to his desk that sits in the bay window of his Victorian cottage. Today’s adventure is over and, as if she had been standing in the wings waiting for this moment, my grandmother announces from the lounge doorway, that tea is ready.  This is not tea as I know it, it is high tea. A mysterious event that only takes place in my grandfather’s home and is a prelude to an even more mysterious adventure which he calls supper. Something that only grown ups are privileged to experience. As he rises slowly from his seat, he bends down and slips the photo album back into the desk drawer and to my relief I see that the next leather-bound volume is still there, waiting for the story to continue.

To read the full second part of this short story – click here

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