Land of the Yellow Sea

Chapter 1. ROSE IRIS LAVENDER

Rose sat back and admired her chips, which her father for some reason called French fries. He also confusingly, called crisps, chips. When Rose asked him why he had to be so confusing, he told her it was because he was an American. And he told her it was just as well he was an American, or she could never have been born. Of course, this was just one more confusing thing that he had told her. She loved her father and didn't believe for a second that he was dead. There were not many in her camp—and certainly not her English mother. Rose wasn't sure if she considered herself English or American, or even a combination of both. She just considered herself to be herself. It was a shame the world was calling out for her to be things that she was currently not.

She had no idea of all this though.

The reason Rose was admiring her chips was because she had creatively repositioned them. And now she picked up the tomato ketchup squeezy bottle in an effort to creatively squirt even more tomato ketchup onto them.

"Rose! Not too much now," said Rose's mother, still wiping away the last of a new batch of tears from her eyes. She continued, "It's bad for your teeth. Remember, there's lots of sugar in that ketchup, you know." Rose's mother blew her nose with a degree of finality into a tissue. She looked a bit happier now.

"But I'll brush my teeth well, Mum. I promise."

"No. That will not stop your teeth rotting between times. So come on, Rose, be a good girl and at least put some of the ketchup to the side of your chips."

"Aw, okay, Mum. You know better than my teeth, I suppose."

Rose did what her mother ordered. Nevertheless, using her knife she did at least manage to draw a picture of a smiley face with the ketchup she had put to the side, so the tomato ketchup wasn't entirely wasted. And she smiled back at the face too.

Rose looked across the table to her mother and her smile grew as she tucked a hot chip securely into her mouth once again. She normally finished her Tea well before her mother, as she was a fast eater with a sweet tooth. Rose loved sweets, cakes, and lots of sugar, which naturally worried her mother. She even scoffed down honey-filled sandwiches. Rose was the proverbial dustbin when it came to almost any meal. But today, on the eve of her birthday, she did not seem in any hurry.

She began heartily singing to a chip she had pronged on the end of her fork as she lazily twirled it around in front of her keen lime-green eyes, a song she conjured up out of her unique quirky imagination. It was a duet, but Rose decided to help the chip out by singing its part:

Oh big chip, big chip,

Will you marry me,

With the love of an Irish man?

(Oh no, little girl with your head in a twirl,

I don't think I really can!)

Why not, big chip?

(Because, little girl...)

Because why, big chip?

(Because little girl...

I'm in love with a fish,

On another girl's dish,

And I have no wish to love another one!')