Short stories archive

Chinese

Chinese

Every time the family came we would get a massive Chinese take-away meal. My uncle was particularly partial to the meal. I loved water chestnuts and prawn crackers. Any dish with the chestnuts with them would disappear quickly as I fought with my brother and sister to get the most. It is a huge aspect of my childhood. That sort of soft feeling you get when you reminisce. The edges are soft and the picture flattering. Moving to Wales though we lost that, the nearest Chinese was half an hour away and piping hot Chinese is not the same as lukewarm Chinese. In fact it was almost ten years before I had a Chinese and then to our small rural town there came a Chinese take-a-way! Now I have had the delightful food and water chestnuts. But, it isn’t the same. Maybe my memories are rose-tinted but the Chinese didn’t even smell the same. Still that first mouthful transported me back to a chair too big and my legs swinging free; being able to hold a large fork in a fist and to sample the delights of egg-fried rice.

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