In the mornings we`d have milk and cereal with sugar. At lunchtime we`d have mash from a tin, concentrated, just add water, and heat it in the micorowave. In the evening we`d have soup and bread. We`d feel snug and watch the clouds drift across the moon with the stars. In the winter we`d feel snug amidst the cold and the snow on the roofs. We`d watch the clouds sailing across in front of the silver moon and feel warm with the soup inside us; as we felt grateful to God and prayed that they wouldn`t find us.
When we`d been new we went to the supermarket terrified and looked for what was simple. We`d found soups that were of different flavours; mushroom, chicken, pheasant, beef, and vegetables. We`d take our green canvas bag and grab forty tins and then we`d have a meal every day with some bread in the evening and feel snug. We were the Soup Insiders.
We`d listen to music and watch television. We`d read our books and write. We`d look at the blue sky through the skylight and see the clouds white and fluffy as they waited for the evening to make them pink and numinous with the light of the angels. We`d see the sky grow bluer until there was darkness and stars winking in to the blackness. The clouds would drift like ribbons of hope across the boney whiteness of the moon and we`d feel less snug and the fear would come that we`d have to leave and no longer would we feel snug with the soup inside us.