Megan

“She glanced round the garden. It was perfect, she thought. They were always gloomy about it, her mother and father. Terrible, terrible, they said - as though a few old weeds mattered! She liked it shaggy, its lawns white with daisies, the golden rod and the aster making tunnels of green gloom through which one could creep comfortably. But in the grown-up world, isolated behind the glass partition, such things counted.”
― Mollie Panter-Downes, One Fine Day

“They were not happy, they could not settle, they had the distrait air of cats whose feet had not been buttered.”
― Mollie Panter-Downes, One Fine Day

“Bloody men are like bloody buses —
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You’re trying to read the destinations,
You haven’t much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you’ll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.”
― Wendy Cope, Serious Concerns

“He looked at her amiably, as though she were a nice sofa. That must be the penalty of the grey hairs, the tired shadows under the eyes, that must be the beginning of getting old. She had noticed it. Young men looked at you as though you were a nice sofa, an article of furniture which they would never be desirous of acquiring.”
― Mollie Panter-Downes, One Fine Day