The siren was calling us workers to work. The clatter of clogs on the wet cobbles was almost deafening. Down stairs the fire was banked up with slack, ready to be stirred into life. I knew the sink was a mess, but last night was different. As usual grandma sent us each to bed with a bowl full of hot milk containing pieces of toasted bread. The sounds outside slowly reduced until silence returned. All was quiet. The Spanish flu saw to that.
Footnote: My WordPress site is playing up at present. So my apologies if I am not able post any comments on other flash offering, until I get the hang of the changes to WordPress. Mike