Creative Writing: My Hero's Journey

Dad suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as if an invisible tram had hit him.
Mum spun round as if balancing on a penny, poking a finger into his face.
“If Gandhi catches pneumonia, it’ll be yer fault!”
“My fault?” snorted dad, “If he had ‘alf an ounce of sense he’d bring some banana leaves with ‘im.”
“Are we getting a banana?” I excitedly asked.
Mums harshness shattered another dream, as always. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll never be able to afford one.” She did not do surprises, treats or comforts. Living in the East
End of London and married to an alcoholic, gambling and trade unionist man like my father did not allow for such Sentiments or luxuries.
She chucked the trousers into my old mans face before disappearing into the living room. I watched as dad followed her, stumbling …show more content…
Muriel apologise for it all being such short notice especially as Gandhi will be arriving today but it was decided between her and her sister Doris that an obstinate
Gandhi shall have, despite his resistance, a housekeeper. “Gandhi is notoriously unyielding in being self reliant,” remarked Muriel as an afterthought.
My mum Rose was elated and regarded it an honour and a privilege to serve such a human being.
“Who is Gandhi?” I asked.
“A saint who believes in people just like us,” Mum replied jubilantly.
I also became excited in waiting to see this giant of a man. What made him so special I wondered? I liked Gandhi already because the mere mention of his name had brightened up my mum’s life. It had been a long time remembering the last time I had seen her smile. An emotion that was definitely absent within our four squalid walls.
Occasionally Muriel would kindly offer some part time cleaning to help us make ends meet. Despite both my parents working, we were still very poor with mum’s favourite expression being, ‘we ain’t got a pot to piss