Karla hardiman
Stories (3/0)
Baby’s first bake sale
Mom. Mama. Mommmmm” I look down at my sons as I stir chocolate and butter in the Bain Marie. He points up at the ingredients on the side and grins cheekily. The same grin I am sure is mirrored back on my own face, dimples and all. I know exactly which ingredient he’s pointing at, the opened packet of white chocolate buttons I’ve been sneaking when he’s not looking. Like mother, like son.
By Karla hardiman3 years ago in Families
Home
It began in the summer. We set ourselves the task of exploring the places we lived as we travelled on our narrowboat. We decided that after eighteen months of the same four walls in a 65ft boat we would show our son the world we lived in. And so we set off through the Staffordshire, Shropshire, Cheshire and Denbighshire countryside, stopping wherever we pleased and making the most of family time; me, my partner and our son.
By Karla hardiman3 years ago in Families
The End
The world looks different now - duller. Like one of those old world photos, the western style ones you’d get taken at a theme park and then would put in a draw for years to grow dusty as forget about it. That same coating of dust is everywhere, it saturates the surfaces of our town, thick and powdery, footprints cut through it and it almost makes me laugh. It reminds me of the first snow of the year when everyone would race outside to their gardens to leave defined footprints. Snow doesn’t fall these days. These days the world only has one setting; hot.
By Karla hardiman3 years ago in Fiction