Sandra Harris Writes

SAYING GOODBYE TO A CHERISHED HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCE. BY SANDRA HARRIS. © Well, well. A minute’s silence, if you would be so kind, for my gas cooker of twenty-three years standing. I’d had it longer than I’ve had my son, is one way of putting it. That’s right, the Appliance formerly known as ‘Cookie’ has finally given up the ghost and gone up to that big old scrapyard in the sky where old appliances go to die.  After years of me coaxing, cajoling, threatening and bribing him (we treat our appliances as part of the family and anthropomorphise them to the extent of imbuing them with genders) to keep going despite his encroaching old age, it’s all over. We’ve had a new cooker installed and made ready to use, by three gas fitters who were just about the surliest tradesmen I’ve ever dealt with. They were arguing amongst themselves even as their van was pulling into our yard, and they kept up the low-key grumbling and bitching the whole time they were in my kitchen, working away. It was actuall

  More Things in Heaven and Earth . . . By Sandra Harris. © This memory always comes back to me when the nights are drawing in and the smell of coal fires fills the air. Eight winters ago, on a bright, cold Saturday afternoon, I sat down for coffee and a chat with some friends in a little caf é in Dublin 2. A few doors down, my two children, Reuben, ten years old at the time, and my adult daughter Lisa, were swapping Pokemon cards and gamers' gossip with a friend of Lisa's in a coffee-shop. A couple of hours later, about 5pm, I looked up from my coffee and saw my children and their friend, a young male in his twenties, file past the café window one by one. Reuben first, bouncing along happily, fuelled by ADHD and the once-weekly Coca-Cola, then Lisa, more sedately, then the friend. They didn't look in and wave, though, even though they knew where I'd be. “Oh, look, there go my kids,” I told my friends in surprise. “If they're heading home now, I suppose I&#

LET’S HAVE A HALLOWEEN CATCH-UP! BY SANDRA HARRIS. © It seems like ages since I wrote anything personal so I thought a dreary Monday afternoon in the run-up to Halloween might be a good time for a chat. Speaking of Halloween, I’ve officially decided that it’s my favourite festival of the year, even more so than Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas and I’ve had some magical festive seasons, but I’m fed up with the terrible commercialisation of Christmas. The pressure to spend money on certain things is ridiculous. In previous years, I’ve given in to it like a turkey to the slaughter, but no more! No more tubs of feckin’ Celebrations, Cadbury’s Roses, Miniature Heroes and Quality Street that will be still sitting there in the cupboard in March. No more chocolate-covered toffees, sexy-delicious as they are, and no more of the boxes of jellies, fudge or liquorice sweets with the smiling Santa on the box, because, you know, our teeth, lol.  And in what universe would anyo