Mum was spooning potatoes on to Dad’s plate.
She put two on, he parried, lifting a third and
fourth from the serving dish. She blocked him,
steering them back on to the serving dish, finally
rapping him on the knuckles with the serving
spoon when he made for them again. Around the
little table sat my parents, my sister and Thomas,
my granddad, and Patrick – who always came
for dinner on Wednesdays.