Doors

Here's a tap at the back door, my neighbour's asking for a witness to count the money and sign, it was her turn to do the cancer charity envelope collection in the street this year. No worries, see you later. An hour later, here she is at the front door. Just did a crumble for you, hold the edges mind, it's hot. Images from Dickens flicker in the steam as I scurry it through to the kitchen.

As it happens I'd just been writing something about doors, including reference to this voice from a study of Bengali elders in London:

‘In Bangladesh we spend time outside and we keep our doors open. We enjoy the fresh air and see our relatives and neighbours and chat together. Here if I go next door, the doors are always closed.’ (Respondent quoted by Katy Gardner, Age, narrative and migration, 2002)