Monday, December 22, 2008
When Harold was a young boy, Ada let him play in the snow as long as he wrapped up warmly and remembered his mittens.* He often wondered where the coloured snow came from but having tasted it (strawberry, lime, orange and blackcurrant) stopped worrying.
“What was the yellow,” he asked, almost thirty years later.
“The yellow what?” said Jasfoup, flicking hazlenuts into the fire where they exploded with tiny pops.
“The yellow snow,” said Harold, “when I was a kid. It was you, wasn’t it, looking after me and making coloured slushies for me in the garden.”
“It was,” said Jasfoup. “Your mum asked me to watch over you, but I never left you any yellow snow. That was the dog from number 36.”
*He would deliberately forget them since all the other kids had gloves and a ten year old with mittens is asking for trouble.