Street Party

Written for

Red, white and blue, flags in the window. Even gnomes of King Charles, and Queen Elizabeth standing at the door. Elsie remembered the street parties. When her neighbour suggested they get together, as neighbours, she was the first to volunteer to make the Victoria sponges.

It was great to see her friends work together.

They rarely said hello to each other these days – there were weeks when she saw no-one. Apart from her son, and granddaughter. The leaflet, posted a week ago, and she rang them straight away.

‘Elsie, these cakes look amazing,’ her next door neighbour said. ‘How on earth did you get the red, white and blue icing so precise.’

‘A trade secret. Can I help decorate the tables. When the Queen had her coronation, that’s what I did. I remember the street parties, parts of them anyway.’

‘I would love to hear your stories, Elsie. Perhaps tomorrow, you can come over for lunch.’

Elsie smiled, it had been a while since she was able to show her happiness. This was a chance to get to know people. The street, not the same as it was. Yet, better almost. Different cultures, learning off each other. During Eid, Zita brought over some delicious samosas. A bit spicy, but then with the yoghurt, she couldn’t almost stop her tongue from burning.

They were a small street, with a few parents, her friend Tom. There was a quiet woman, living at the end. She never really said hello, always wrapped up in her own worries. Maybe she could invite her to the party.

Nobody deserved to be lonely.

With her walking stick, she tapped across the pavement.

The young woman, no older than her daughter, answered the door.


She looked thin, like she wasn’t eating properly. It was the same these days, so many on the poverty line. Food banks shouldn’t be a thing, but they were.

‘My name’s Elsie, we are having a street party. I’m baking cakes, Zita is bringing the samosas. There will be pizza, sandwiches. I could do with some help. I’m not that great at bulk cooking. Would you be able to help me?’

‘Sure, I mean, course I would?’

‘My name’s Elsie, come on then lass, let’s get cooking.’

Published by writerravenclaw

I am a fifty something mother of two grown up children, and one beautiful grandchild. I have been married for nearly thirty-four years. My first book was published ten years ago. I wrote my book Sticks and Stones because of my experience of being bullied at school.

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