Monday 21 October 2013

...and then there was one...


...and then there was one...


I am old now
there is no one but me
the last of a long line

I am
my family.

Mummy was an Irish beauty Daddy fell for. She had a voice like honey, she had dark blue smiling eyes and her skin was like alabaster. Mummy had a quick manner and a ready laugh, the giggle that became famous in our family. Mummy came from county Cork, Daddy was an Englishman to die for, tall and slender strong and a face that showed early where the laugh lines would be one day. Daddy was in the army, proud in his khakis and we moved to the east coast of England when he was posted  there.  We soon settled into our house by the river...huge with high ceilings, a grand piano in the music room and we all sensed that something had forever changed…childhood had come to an end somehow when we left Granny and Grandpapa behind…and now we would be formally educated and finished…at home…I was not interested in the lessons but for the piano…I paid attention there and made good progress but when it came to maths I sat up very straight to show I was paying attention but really it was the crown glass in the windows that caught my interest…I loved the distortions looking through . A bird could fly by twice all in the same moment...when I moved my head it was gone...a face with three eyes  might look at me with a never ending mouth that split it in two...

we were seven children
we had a governess
we also had special tutors who came

We had our own running track and tennis court. We all loved tennis and we dressed for it, Robert looked the smartest in his whites and stripey blazer…
Tilly’s boyfriend came and played
Josie’s young man liked to watch and call. He was the umpire
Millie was engaged to be married but not until she was twenty one…she and her betrothed would sit apart and talk and dream but clapped when a point was well earned…
Sylvie and her friend played well, they played the best
and
Emily liked to play with me because she would always win…

We played croquet on the lawn and took tea under the hanging branches of the willow tree,  Cook brought sweet muffins with jam and cream or toast and fruitcake that Mummy loved so much...We were six girls and everyone adored our brother...and it was he who decided  on the tea...thin sandwiches with wafer thin cucumber slices on anchovy paste, egg and cress or roast beef and horseradish sauce...the youngest drank chamomile tea or mint, Mummy drank Earl Grey and sometimes Daddy would arrive early and take tea with us. Sharp in his khaki uniform, he never sat down, always stood up and held his porcelain cup and saucer...proud father of seven  and he and Mummy loved each other as on the first day, you could see, only we did the talking, they did the listening bit...

Funny, how it all went, really...you could not imagine just how it would be when everyone moved  into their own lives away from Mummy and Daddy...fledged the nest, as they say...we never imagined that they might be lonely...they had so much to do...we still visited a lot, of course, every day for those who lived close by but it was never quite the same except for Christmas when we all got together and Millie and James came home from India...Millie had learned all sorts of exotic things to do with the left over turkey for us all with curry leaves and garlic and hot chilly peppers...she had a boy out there for the hard work and a cook and would tell of elephants and tigers, of ancient forts and palaces, huge bats that flew over the lake at night  and peacocks displaying iridescent feathers on her dew dappled lawn announcing dawn with haunting cries as the sun would rise...

Christmas with all of us gathered together in the house by the river, fires roaring and our childhood decorations on the tree was such fun for us all, memorable as we all caught up with one another...Daddy not so steady on his feet but he would still light the Christmas Pudding, Mummy not so slender now and a little bent...she would still play our ring game with gusto, the ring game we played as children as we did now and this she loved the best...we all sat in a circle and held the string in cupped hands concealing the ring...we shuffled the ring and laughter rang out as the one in the middle tried to guess where it was...we were children that moment and we loved how it bound us together once more...

...and when the war came all was changed forever...Josie's husband fell early...Emily became a war widow too, half orphans then, cousins Charlie and John...but the famous family giggle never left us though but a melancholy was often quick to cast a shadow in these hard times...no one starved thank God, the ration books held out, porridge was our staple, with or without sugar and Daddy took salt only so as to share his sugar ration for the sweet tooth...and that was usually me...

Tilly never left home. She was quite poorly often.She became very frail with deep, purple circles framing he eyes that often seemed to glitter with a fever

...and then Tilly died...sad...slowly from TB...Nanny had TB...Nanny died too...
...and then Josie died...Josie had a stroke...she lived on for a bit but could not talk anymore and that was hard for Josie. Josie liked to talk...so the end was a blessing...
...and then Millie died...Millie and her husband had lived in India too long...too many cocktails...something wrong with her liver...
...and then our Robert died...Robert just got weak and died...he left a lovely record collection...
...and then Sylvie died...Sylvie was in the kitchen when she died...she was standing up when she died...her heart gave out when she was cooking eggs and she just sank to the floor...
...and then Emily died...her lungs collapsed...she got too cold one day...went out with her golden hair still wet....got very ill and died from the fever...

...and now it's my turn next...but not yet... awhile, things to do don't you know...things to remember and to write down for someone to read...

...Mummy died and Daddy too...he had cancer...Mummy just worn out, they said that Granny died too soon...all the husbands died...but my brother's wife is still around and sometimes telephones.. though I can't hear her, I have become quite deaf...

...we had a happy time when we were young ...

we were seven children
in our family
there is no one now but me
and
I am old

I
am
very
old…

Thursday 10 October 2013

the hacker




the hacker


…beware of me
I am not good
I am the hacker
I hack lives…
I hack
right
into lives…
…but…
you love what I do,
really,
you love the sweet surrendering,
you love it
because
you think there is something in it for you….

You have no idea what I am thinking, I look like you, with a face like your face, with hair and eyes and nose and ears like you have and a mouth that moves like yours when I talk to you. I have a body. I have a beautiful body. I walk, I laugh, make love and then there is all the other stuff we all have to do in order to survive…shop, I love shopping, I clean and I cook…no…I do not have a wife…or a husband…I do not have a cleaner…I do it all myself…I am the sweet bachelor who lives at number one…not the marrying kind they say, he loves his computers the best…pity really, but there you are… …he loves his workshop,  theatre clean, makes chips for things, very clever, is what they say… little tiny, tiny chips that you can hardly see…

…I love to cook for my friends and dinner parties are my speciality. Everyone always comes when invited, I serve them the very best wine and the very best food that money can buy….I am not short of money. But the best thing I do are my little tete a tetes….just two of us, candle light tete a tetes, man or woman, it does not really matter. I am an all round lover, versed in all things, create the right mood with the right music and feed you tit bits that I have so lovingly prepared. We feast on quail’s eggs with caviar, Colchester mussels where we find tiny, tiny pearls as we eat, mini blinis with prawns,  so delicious, with finely chopped dill, mint frosted sherbet  over honeydew melon balls  and chocolate truffles which I pop into your mouth to wash down with golden bubbles of iced Bollinger in glasses that throw prisms of rainbows into the candle light…you are happy…and…you don’t know that you are paying the price with a smile for your own vanity and also your sincerity as you fall in love with me….

…you have been hacked and you don’t know it…the chip went down in a truffle,  with kiss and  a smile…

…beware of me
I may be clever
I may be all that you want
just now
but
I am not good…
I hack into your soul
I hack into your brain…
…and I learn all that is there…..
…all your secrets…
…all you love and all you hate…


I offer you my love and all that I possess and there is lots to be had because all I need is you…
and
you love everything I have and give you…
you do everything I want…

…and…
when I have hacked you I can send you over a cliff or under a car, I can make you jump out of a window when I’m done with you…I might send you walk-about and you won’t remember who you are…but not before you have  fulfilled my dreams and I tire of you…
…suicide they say…lost her mind…everybody loved her and she will be sorely missed by all…
…but…
…not by me…though I do have to pretend just for a bit…

…they put a stone on her grave, fashioned like a heart and someone had painted a message on it which read:  you are captured in our hearts and you will live forever there…you are the sun in our day and the laughter in our lives…

…that’s how it works…
…the next one always turns up…
…all by themselves…
…at the graveside…
…usually..
 …it’s just how it works…

I will court you, I will love you, feed you and you will feel special and wanted and learn to do my bidding and when you have swallowed the tiny chip I will control you, control your every move. You will give yourself to me unconditionally, happily, joyfully, because I wish it, and when I am tired of you I will send you over the edge…laughing…and I will cry so all can see my tears…big tears…sadness will surround me as I dress for mourning, sadness rolling down my cheeks, sincerity and sorrow for your loss and while we all mourn I have my eyes on the next you…so I might sate my hunger and survive…



























you love what I do
you do love me
I make it so
I am a hacker
I hack into your soul
I am not nice
I am not good…

…be aware of me….

…beware…



copyright©

Tuesday 16 July 2013

I thought I heard the ocean roar




I thought I heard the ocean roar

I liked my Uncle Jack the best
he used to come to tea
he used to tell me stories
he wore a beard and smelled of Havanas
he liked a tot of Captain’s rum
he liked to laugh,
my Uncle Jack
and
I laughed with him…

…Jack was an adventurer they said, he would never come to much, whatever that meant…

…they would sit there round the big table , a few less every year and have a conversation when there was really nothing more that was left to talk about…
…they’d said it all before…
…it was like a merry-go-round..
and
…today it was the turn of Uncle Jack while he was with me and Jessie served their soup…

…… they had been a grand family once, a house with commanding views of the sea, a fortress against the storms off the ocean but all winter the chill never left your bones,  as the icy winds and rain lashed horizontally against crown glass…

…and…

…when it was as hot as it was this year cook made cold cherry soup that uncle Jack loved with an extra tot of Kirsch…

… Jack…the philanderer, the good for nothing, Casanova, ne’r do good, who  drank and smoked and chased the ladies…a charmer…he was NOT…Aunt said,  and she knew about these things…I could hear them through the floor…Aunt was an authority on the subject…she mixed with the right people,  like-minded, as she put it, where people were discussed, Art and the opera, the string quartet that came to play in the grand hall but never money…Rembrandt’s birthday reason for a toast as he would have bee 470 years old today…

…money was simply always there and everyone just helped themselves to what they had a need to do…they avoided carrying the stuff just like the Royals  but like it or not you often needed to carry a purse these days mainly for the  for tipping …some of them used to go shooting,  others went on fishing trips, mountain hikes and travels on the ocean blue…Aunt herself liked German Spas where she would feast on wild boar and venison, languish in goopy moor baths to be hosed down with needle sharp darts of cold water till her skin turned prickly red all over and she shivered with delight…for the circulation it was, she said,…for the improvement of  her sad, worn  spirit as she put it….vital for her and all the family when she had so much to contend with, what with Uncle Jack and all the children who loved him so dearly…

…he was everyone’s Uncle Jack but he was mostly mine…

…my Uncle Jack comes every day to tell me stories and the tales that no one else knew… He spun me yarns and grunted as he settled himself  into the old chair with wings frayed here and there now at the edges from the leaning……he ran his right hand through his beard and in the left cradled golden liquid that sparkled in a cut glass tumbler.

…now then, he would say, where were have we got to…and he paused for a moment…catching up with memories seemed hard for him sometimes…oh yes, he said…John, that’s right, John Masefield…my old friend at sea you know…we served on HMS Conway together, I saw the beard bobbing, he rocked slightly back and forth  and his chest expanded with pride…magnificent she was, 125 foot gun deck, full rigged,  queen of the ocean and a privilege to serve on her…he’d seen a nocturnal rainbow once lit by the full moon, the eye of a giant squid looking at him, mermaids and angels that came down through thick walls of fog to guide them and steer them clear of the rocks…floating moonbeams and sirens singing on the wind…the silent flight of an albatross as it hung in the air above the rigging for awhile until it veered off on a mission of its own into the wind to far horizons…


…the iron lung was pumping hard, the noise was huge and regular, breathing, reassuring, swishing air I could not breathe for myself…

I could see the sea from the window through the Georgian squares that were lower than I was in my prison. Crown glass distorted the ocean somewhat and the sky and through the swishing I thought that I could hear the ocean roar…

…a good man, my uncle Jack said, as he snipped off the end of the cigar and lit a match, took a large sip of the golden liquid, …oh yes, my friend Masefield …he lit the cigar and between puffs to get it going he said, poetry, he wrote poems you know… and he began to recite to me and touched my cheek to wipe away a tear…I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky…

…I watched the smoky swirls in the sunlight and my mind drifted as he spoke and remembered…

…and all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
and quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over...


...he slumped forward, his glass shattered and he did not stir...
...the cigar slipped from his fingers...

and

...through the swishing sound I heard their laughter  from below me in the dining room…they would come up in time…

I liked my uncle Jack the best
he used to come to tea
he used to come and tell me stories…


15.07.13

Monday 17 June 2013

not the end of the world



not the end of the world

nothing seemed right for her today…
…and …
…something needed to change…and…
…nothing would change if she did not change it…

..but what was she going to do?

…the answer would come, she was certain of that and she could always ask the Goddess for help…

…she was alone on the beach, not a soul was in sight, the beach was all hers, the sea was all hers and the sky and the clouds and the song of the ocean…the pounding of waves on the rocks, shrill, the cry of the gulls on the wing above her, the rain in her hair…it was all hers, it was her prayer but it was not enough for her today…

…Midsummer day and a howling gale from somewhere but she wanted to dance in a meadow of daisies and of buttercups, she wanted to dance with her friends, with flowers in her hair, a circlet of wild roses and ivy. She wanted to laugh, look up at the sky and run, run, run till she could no longer breathe, sway to the music played on whistle and flute, dance, dance and love, love and laugh…outstretch her arms and embrace the glory of this day and fly…it was the solstice of summer, moon to the half, a gaining moon, not waning…and it was also a Friday, the day for loving and giving…all good omens she thought…could not be better, all perfect and right…

…and…

…it was not the end of the world if the sun did not shine…

oh Goddess, she cried out to the sky, will you not help?

I have an ache in my heart
that is deep with such longing

but

the love is all there, light brightly shining…
I want to run with the others!
I want to laugh with them all!
I want to be young with no cares for a day…

and

dance in my gossamer dress
hold their hands and turn in a circle…

and

make the magic happen…


the goddess was kind,
and
granted her wish

and

she was no longer alone on the beach
she ran
and she laughed

and

she joined the midsummer dance of her friends in a buttercup meadow, daisies gently swaying in the breeze, hawberry scent in the air, butterflies winging and skylarks singing, the sun was warm on her body, the wind caressing her skin, hearts pounding, feet following the rhythm of the song, dresses swirling  and turning, a crown of flowers in her flowing hair…as they danced to the sound of the whistle and flute…

…she had known the answer would come…





…they found her, smiling, eyes closed in contentment…

and

…they wheeled her chair away from the window…
…looking out
    to
    the
    sea


.

Saturday 11 May 2013

May Day



 May Day 1934

…down Sun Bank Lane past Hale Bank Farm he ran this morning and he did not stop until reached the little moss covered clearing in Sun Bank Wood just where the river flowed and made a little rock pool.

He pulled the laces of his new black plimsolls Mum had bought him , especially for today, and dug his toes into the soft, cold moss.  He leaned against a tree there, felt the tremble of his growing manhood and breathed the damp wood air to calm his lungs and the pounding of his heart.  The river narrowed here, gurgled and whispered as the water lapped against the rocks and he watched for the glint of a fish in the water…he had seen hares box here, it was his place, his secret place, a tiny arena where the moss had grown over the boulders and when he was here he was lost in time and started as if waking from a dream to run home for his breakfast…fried bread today as a special treat for Mayday, he knew it, could taste it already and he quickened his step…nothing could break the magic of his day…the smell of the earth , the song of a robin, chaffinches calling, thrush and blackbird, he knew them all, as his Grandad had taught him, whisper of the wind in the tree tops, the song of the river, sun rays lighting dew drops like tiny diamonds in the grass, morning sparkle in the grass along the river bank. His place, this was for sure, no one else ever came here… Teddy Moore was happy….

…today was May Day and today he would dance with Rosie Simmons.  They would weave a web of pink and yellow ribbons round the maypole  on the vicarage green, they would watch the Morriss Dancers and he would kiss her on the cheek. Both were in Mrs. Bacon’s class where he had rested his head upon her ample bosom when he was only five… Ted knew that Rosie would go away to school next year…he to the big school in Widnes, on the bus…
                                                     
                  
May 1st 1941, in the warm evening sunshine aircraft are made ready as the crews clamber aboard. Daimler-Benz engines cough and splutter into life with a belch of exhaust fumes and the noise shatters the peace of the Summer twilight.
Throttles are pulled back, and slowly, rubber tyres start to move over the grassy airfields in Northern France. The heavily laden bombers shuffle and line up for take off. Hitler's mighty Luftwaffe were taking to the skies again.
This time their target was, Liverpool.
The German squadrons massed into formation and headed up the North Sea or West, then North up the Irish Sea in an effort to avoid the thicker fighter cover of the RAF over Kent. On into the gathering gloom the bombers flew. It was rumoured the Germans were using new technology of radio beams to locate their target.



                                                                               

 



latest report in the Weekly Gazette:

1st MAY 1941

The start of the May Blitz, 8 days of bombing intended to cripple the ports either side of the river Mersey and hamper the supply lines from the West. The area was hit hard during this period with terrible loss of life and destruction.

Just before 11.pm the first set of bombs fell onto Wallasey and signalled the start of the May Blitz. Liverpool and Bootle were also targetted this night as the Luftwaffe tried to destroy the docks and bomb the people into submission............ It failed.

 2nd MAY 1941

The bombers return in force with wave after wave hitting the area in a prolonged attack. Liverpool city centre is the main target and suffers terrible damage. The Dock Board building, Saint Michael’s Church in Chinatown, the old White Star building, Liverpool Corn exchange, are hit this night.


An Ambulance Driver is killed at the Pier Head.

DENIS HAWXBY
died 02/05/1941, aged 28.


Crawford's Biscuit factory on Binns Road is hit. One person ( a Firewatcher ) dies from wounds received in the blast.

ALAN PARKHOUSE
died 02/05/1941, aged 17.

A bomb hits New Bird Street killing 3 people.

JOHN HERON
died 02/05/1941, aged 36.

WILLIAM OWENS
died 02/05/1941, aged 51.

WALTER RALEIGH PHILLIPS
died 02/05/1941, aged 35.


                                                                                        

 

it had been a small wedding, Rosie Simmons became Mrs. Moore in her Mum’s wedding dress, Ted,  smart in his uniform, buttons and boots shiny from polishing…just families and their best friends…no fuss but a spread in the Golden Lion, they cut a cake that Ted’s Mum had made for them with a bride and groom in the middle…

…it was a good day and they were happy, they had only the one day and one night, Cherry tree cottage to live in, rented and Rosie would get everything ready for when he  came home, only one bedroom, an end of terrace, was all they needed for now, they would be happy there together…

…she walked with him as far as Hale station where he caught the train to go to war, she would wait for him, hang lace curtains in the little windows, plant red geraniums and a garden and on his return home to her they would begin their lives together and maybe buy a house one day when the children came along… they’d live there until they were very old, wrinkly but still smiling and in love…life was good today and full of promise…she was Mrs Moore now, after all and that counted for something…

…no one knew where they would send him…

…she stood very straight as the train began to move and take away her Ted, she waved to him, smiling through a veil of tears….


…there was no one to meet him at the station when he came home…
…shattered…
…worn…
…old for his age…
…and for the first time unsure of a life without commands, demands, screams and guns and smell of burning on the wind…and after the train drew away the silence was huge and it frightened him…
…he began the long walk home to Cherry tree cottage and to his love in Hale …
…there had been no letters…

..he wound his way through Sun bank wood where the river still whispered, no time to take off the boots, muddy and worn, the moss not so inviting and his love was waiting for him…

…he crossed the little bridge that led to Chapel Lane, with wearied feet past Hale Bank Farm to Sun Bank Lane where he had lived when he was small and in just a few moments he would see their cottage and hold his Rosie tight…




…there had been just the one bomb in Hale…
…just one stray bomb…