Simone Estridge – Scratch 2nd draft & Tech requirements

13 Feb

Coffee beans

At ten, my grandmother was a garden.
My grandfather a seed; a bean.
My mother tasted like coffee; an espresso.
My father’s ribs were frames –

I would climb them every Saturday

between three and four PM.
My mother would pick me up from
the Centre, never a minute late.
She would say seeing him more than once
a week
would do me no good.
Every evening she would
sit by the fire and drink hot milk
until her hair turned white.
My father hated coffee.
My brother hated my father.
My grandmother would sit by and laugh.
She said it was never like this in her day.
She would tell me 
her frothy, marshmallow dreams:
of a café on the corner of Billsley Lane,
where the old wine store had burnt out.
Her fingers told stories
of a good hot drink.

Now, I’m forty-two and my grandmother
has passed away. My grandfather says you
can never be too old to re-marry.
My brother still hates my father.
My mother still drinks hot milk every evening 
and my father, I haven’t seen him since my 18th birthday.
But I still climb frames and now my fingers
tell the story 
of a fresh mocha.
I have opened my own café.
I grow coffee beans in my back garden.
Over by the grinder, I still have a picture
 of my family
But somehow, the smell of fresh
 coffee beans
brings us back together.

** Estimated time: 3 mins

** Tech requirements: Fresh lighting / A spot light. I need to confirm but I may need another two mics – a low mic and a standing mic just as if it is okay I may bring along my sister and fella who would be playing box drum and viola along side me but it is not yet confirmed. Will let you know as soon as I can.


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