Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Looking Down the Years

From his sheltered spot on Clodgy bluff
He’d seen it calm and glint and rough
White horses raging lashing rocks
Or lapping softly past the docks


The night Welsh Trader perished near
Her decks awash with foam and fear
The rocks claimed lives and skin and bone
And the newly-widowed drew close at home

For the jubilee the pageant lasted days
The silver sea’s reflective ways
Highlighting polished hulls and bunting high
Atop masts reaching for the sky

Commercial glory too had its day
When the shoals of cod and haddock paid
With their lives to nourish our ill-fed ranks
All offered praise and grateful thanks


The dreadful spillage killed all that
The catches went from feast to flat
Sea birds all manner of life went down
In that insidious oily spreading gown


Time the healer refreshed and cleaned
But the delicate balance of nature seemed
Forever shifted from the accepted mean
And devoid of the life which once had teemed


The tourists come now in their hordes
With modern craft and chamfered boards
Swim, paddle or ski and ride
The phlegmatic sea takes it in its stride


With winter returns the solitary walker
Gazing out over the crashing water
No visitors now, no slick or screams
Just the old man of Clodgy wrapped up in his dreams

Paint It Red

It’s remarkable how much you can take in in a single glance although you might not realise it at the time. The events which follow happened around 18 months ago and whilst some of the peripheral details have faded the salient parts are etched clearly somewhere I don’t go very often.


The routine blood test at my surgery had not gone well. Vera had reluctantly given up finding a vein and “referred” me to a higher authority namely the hospital up the hill. Vera was most put out that I had donated blood dozens of times in my adult life without being made to feel like a pincushion. I wondered what tactics the “higher” nurses might employ with their evidently superior vein-detection skills.


Inevitably there was a queue waiting to be bled or consulted about previous bleeding. Strolling into the side room I took in that there were 5 rows of about 7 seats and only 2 or 3 seats unoccupied. I dismissed the nearest seat next to a large unkempt man. I elected for the seat at the far end of the room which someone was “keeping” with a folded back magazine. I lifted the magazine and the young girl adjacent jumped and shot me a glance of fright. I smiled weakly and motioned towards the now empty seat and she nodded. I sat and rested the magazine on my lap then flinched at the picture presenting to me.


Before the ragged application of a bright red crayon the picture was one of a sunlit lakeland scene with a swan massively dominating the foreground. The swan’s beauty had been all but extinguished by the violent crayon strokes which made the swan an incongruous crimson shape against its once idyllic backdrop.


What moron could vandalize the magazine in this way? What mindless lout could be so devoid of …?


“Its Danny…” she said quietly as her eyes never left the yawning entrance to the “clinic” which swallowed up people in ones and twos after names were called.


She turned slowly to face me and I saw not the face of a moron but the sad world-weary face of a 5 or 6 year old whose very soul was stricken by events too difficult to imagine. Sunken eyes framed by dark circles of pain.


She pointed to the swan and before I could say anything before I could articulate my forgiveness before I could breathe…


“He’s dying, Danny it’s his blood it’s not working proper” and then I knew and hated myself for my snap judgement. My smug fiftysomething know-it-all seen-it-all perceived wisdom my ennui my damn stupidity.

I knew straightaway. It was her mother and brother emerging from the clinic by her expression of first elation then instantaneous return to despondency. She got up quickly and ran to join them as they moved towards the exit.

I too got up and as words failed me I held out a hand. A gesture of conciliation maybe or perhaps a wave goodbye. She looked towards me one hand already on the handle of Danny’s pushchair and with some conviction said “I painted it red mister, I painted it red”.

Wherever

Think of a time
When your breathing came easy
The breeze was gentle
And the sun was warm.
When time stood still
And every limb weightless.

When you felt peace
And it was easier to smile
Than any other expression
When your every move had grace
And pain was elsewhere
When nature was intact
And you felt part of everything
That ever existed.

Then
Think of me
And though miles or years
May have come to separate us.
In that moment
I shall be with you.

Notice to Adolescence

I know that we are different now and that things may never be as they were before.

I accept that you see things differently to me but hope that one day you will see things something like I do and may appreciate that it was with the best of motives that I chose to differ.

I love you no less now than I did when you did need me to change you or provide tissues or serve up food.

I aspire to be the parent, guardian and most of all, friend that you have at times needed and will need in the coming years.

Please do not ever distance me from you as this is my greatest fear and we must remember that our minor squabbles and differences and are just that, minor.

It may not always be apparent but I am as available to you today as I have ever been. I swear to you that this is the case.

Please remember that I love you and that your health, well-being and respect are more important to me than life itself. This will never cease.

God bless you

Your Dad

Father and Son

Sit up my baby son
And let me tell thee of some times
When men would fashion beauty from firewood
And gather food from the woods
When women would sew and cook to keep thee warm
And life was simple

Stand up young son and let me see thee
And tell thee of some times
When men were hungry for success
When brains began to beggar boredom
And steam and smoke were in our throats
And life was hard

Stand up tall my young man
And let me tell thee of some times
When guns and power ruled the land
When blood flowed freely and life was cheap
When images once only in mind were put on screens
To enjoy or fear
And life was so complex to consider

Now sit thee down my grown up lad
And rest thee by my bed
And I’ll tell thee of times I shrink from now
When age and frailty are comedy
And jack the lad is king
When potions cure us of all life’s ills
But poison our minds with the need to escape
And life is sweeping past me like an irresistible tide
Which I now long to carry me with it

Then stand up alone son of mine and be proud
That God made thee and loves thee still
For all the bad things that you’ll see
You will also find good if you seek it
And for all the tensions of life and anguish
May you find peace in the succour of others
And know that I love thee
And life can be so sweet

Things I Miss

Things I miss
Rickets, impetigo, that purple stuff kids had painted on their lips, winkle-pickers, Les Dawson, getting lemonade from an earthenware jar, snow, naivety and uncomplicated nature of the 60s and 70s, my Ford Anglia, worms, Benny Hill, verrucae, Friday nights out, writing letters by hand, bread pobbies, Holidays of Obligation, seeing my toes, reaching my toes, prams, factory chimneys, going on a first date, guinea pigs, corner shops, cottage pie my mum used to make, street parties, sulphur ointment, mental institutions, bicycles with a basket on the front, iced up windows in winter, fish on Fridays,  roaring coal fire, John Wayne films, cricketers without headgear, kids walking to school, neighbours calling to borrow a cupful of sugar.
We now have :

HIV, AIDS, RSI, ADHD, OCD, PTSD, MRSA and COPD not to mention OMG and FFS,  autism, lupus, dementia, metatarsal injuries, rehab, computers, text messaging, cholesterol, antibiotics, unsafe streets, lack of compassion and consideration, single parent families, muggings, suicide, ebola, self-harming, abortion, divorce, carpal tunnel syndrome, hypermarkets, mad cow disease, MRI scans, deep vein thrombosis, bipolar disorder, terrorism, genetically modified food and animals,4x4s.

There's so much more to live for now as long as you don't catch anything.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Burns Night

I heard Davey Arthur & the Fureys sing this at a concert in the 80s and I was spellbound at the beauty of the words and the persistent mandolin.

 
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

Robbie Burns