More from Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

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It comes of flowing on so quiet, and of that there rippling at the boat’s head making sort of a Sunday tune. Maybe I’m growing a trifle old besides. p 466

The Sound of Sunday

hello, hello and more hellos as we greeted the guests
the crinkle of foil being lifted from the quiches, every Sunday should be pot-luck
the clink of glasses as we toasted our good fortune to be together
the hearty agreement as each dish was pronounced delicious
the after dinner but before dessert quiet
water running as people re-wet the sponge for their tattoos
the teetering of toes as the raised garden beds became a high-wire act
the sound of the football as it spiralled through the air
the plink of the guitar providing accompaniment to the afternoon
the loading of the custardy spongecake desserts on our waiting plates.
the sound of “I’d like a trifle more” floating through the air
our laughter at the well-worn, but welcome pun
the familiar tune of Happy Birthday, M smiling as we serenaded him
the wagging of dog tails as they waited for the ball to be thrown again and again
our hugs as we good-byed and good-byed some more
the silence of bittersweet as the house settles after the guests have gone

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