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It was lockdown. To me there wasn’t lockdown one, two etc but 2 years of The Covid as we said. The Covid. Enough said. Some people painted the house, I went to work, to learn. Live and learn or learn to live or live to learn. I painted some glassware and a cup. I have a grá for a good espresso in a perfect cup, a simple pleasure denied during lockdown. I have a collection of espresso cups which come out on state occasions. The Yellow Cup was bought in Portugal in the before time. The Yellow Cup which was never yellow. 

All stories have a beginning, middle and end. Hardware shops were a necessity; the wildflower seeds were bought online at vast cost to the planet. The nasturtium seeds were bought IRL and for anyone over the age of 30ish that’s In Real Life. The Happy Beginning.

The middle of the Story. Things got a bit grim; isn’t that always the way. Polite veil. 

Did I not mention Moon Cat yet? My Lockdown Kitten. Cats do like to delicately extend an elegant black paw and push your cup off the table. Did he? The Yellow Cup Story ends on a cliffhanger  - The End. 

Yellow Cup: The Love Story. The book of love.. is full of.. and instructions for dancing. Zoom dancing parties. I rest my case. We all begin on our own, lonely perhaps, perhaps in solitude. Part 1. 

Love.. again. Love, love, love. Part 2. That frisson of excitement, joy. Etcetera. 

The Love Story: The End. It’s a Yellow Cup which was never yellow and do not ask who goes on top. 

The Yellow Cup: Spring. Are we still here? Spring again and time to buy daffodils which are not yet out. Invest in the future. 

Mushrooms. Still not allowed to go out and find them. A different knife. Breakfast, my favourite meal. Over and out, I’ll get my coat. 

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