A Chase of Tea
The children are bundled into blankets
and coats clutching at their ears. So scarce
our thoughts on warmth until all the oil’s
drained. The tank’s but scant remains, mere
vapours I’d surely thank, and this evening
is so cold, and the fire’s gone to ash. I pray
I might find the kettle, and chase off this chill
with tea, as we huddle close in together, the
children read about those three pigs twee.
Found and remixed text from *Bleak House* and personal diaries
from March 1991. A week after moving into our house in Godstone,
we ran out of heating oil. The gauge on the tank was faulty, stuck on full.