The Wager

A gorgeous gibbous moon hangs pearly white, the golden sunset fading over the estuary now.  Such is the view from my high window, here on Halkyn Mountain.

Indoors, our small tree twinkles and gleams, a fairy-star on top.

Tomorrow will be Christmas Eve, 2023.

I have a haibun in the December issue of Failed Haiku, a haibun telling a humorous true story from my home life, growing up in a 1950s pit and mill town in Lancashire, England.  The issue was edited by Bryan Rickert.

Somehow it feels just right to share my haibun with you this evening, and here it is:

The Wager

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He had a thing about it, our dad.  Not quite a craving perhaps, but not far off.  He simply adored Mum’s meat-and-potato pie.

Returning from work on weekdays or relaxing at weekend, nothing quickened Dad’s grin like a steaming meat-and-potato pie for dinner.  With salt, pepper and lashings of brown sauce, of course.  He claimed he’d never tire of it.

So Mum put him to the test.

“I’ll make you meat-and-potato pie every day for the next fortnight,” she said, “and I’ll bet you won’t want it again for a while.”

When the fortnight was up, she said, “What would you like for dinner, darling?”

He replied, “meat-and-potato pie, please, my dear.”

And we all groaned.

the condiments

of desire

lead many astray

Paul Beech

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Wishing all my readers a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  Best wishes also from my partner Maureen Weldon, who often comments on my posts here.

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Copyright © Paul Beech 2023