I discovered during the power
outage, that the hole in the bread
board, was not for the thumb, as
had previously been assumed.

Beneath the floral plastic coated
table cloth which draped like the
skirt of a hovercraft directly on to
our knees, was a storage compartment.

Immediately after the lights failed,
the old granny, who's permanent
position it was, at the side, pulled the
drawer fetching a big red greased candle.

Before I had blinked, a box of Maguire
and Patterson black matches landed
beside her, team work, uncle **** knew
exactly where they were on the mantlepiece.

First, there was the a click, then, the
smell of sulphur when the tiny twig in
her hand illuminated the room as she
relayed the flame on to the waiting wick.

A hole in one, in the dark too, she went
on about her business as though nothing
had happened. **** said, the worst thing that
ever happened to this country, was the electric city.