Everyone moved toward the fire but not everyone was warmed by it.

'I don’t understand what this young woman of mine eats. How is there no corn meal, no sweetened condensed milk, nutmeg and things like that.' I woke to the most clawing hunger pain, not helped by the scent of nostalgia coming from our kitchen. The smell of Christmas morning's saltfish. Somewhere downstairs, the original 'Mary's Boy Child is in competition with my Aunty Shelly's intermittent singing and the pattering of pots and pans. I eased myself upright. David wasn’t in

Perhaps you've been reading from day one. Perhaps you've only just discovered one of my chapters. The Reading Room is where you dip in, dip out or binge read, fall into a story and stay a while. Either way, I am happy to have you here.