The Nursery

 Dear Reader,

The poem this week is about the nursery I remember in my young childhood.  The thing I remember best is the vast amount of yellow lino on the floor and of course the curtains. And of course too the spooky noises in the night.  I am sure the house was haunted but Nanny who looked after me assured me it wasn't.  She used to go down to the kitchen and talk to our cook, Mrs Mason, after she had settled me for bed, and I think they got through several bottle of Guiness. So she wouldn't have known a ghost if it had addressed her.

Isn't memory strange?  I can remember things I did and even said seventy odd years ago but can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday or even today. It is all a bit disconcerting but old age is a new country and we have to accept its different ways. I have a nap in the afternoon otherwise I couldn't stay up after 9 o'clock. and feeling tired seems to be a part of the package.  

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Are you fed up with this weather?  I am thoroughly p....... off with it.  It has been cold, wet and gloomy for months now.   I keep thinking of a treat.  Going to a pretty pub, sitting on the lawn under an umbrella (for the sun) having a large cool glass of white wine, laughing with Francis about anything and everything.  But no such luck.  Unless we sat in the rain.  Surely spring will arrive one day soon.

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From  Gilbert White, April 24th, 1779 in Hampshire

'Hail, stormy, strong wind.  The wind broke off the great elm in the churchyard short in two; the head of which injured the yew tree.... Many tulips and other flowers are injured by the hail.'

FRom D.H. Lawrence, April 30th, 1915 in Sussex

'There is a wagtail sitting on the gate-post.  I see how sweet and swift heaven is.  But hell is slow and creeping and viscous and insect-teeming; as is this Europe now, this England.'

 

The Nursery

 

I remember the nursery.

It was large with yellow Lino

covering the floor.

It had two beds in it

and a small white table.

 

I remember the curtains

had giraffes and zebras

pictured on them.

There was a large cupboard

in the corner for all my toys,

an African mat orange and blue

tacked on the door.

 

I remember Nanny put me to bed,

we would say our prayers.

Later she would go downstairs

to talk to our cook, Mrs Mason.

 

I remember being very scared

it was a big house which creaked.

When it was windy the windows rattled
and I heard strange noises.

 

I remember lying very still

my heart thumping until Nanny

came up to bed.

I told her I was frightened the

next morning, but she said "nonsense,

no ghosts here, not in this house."

 

I remember Nanny's smell, a mixture

of face powder and lavender water,

she smelt so special and comforting.

 

She was my safety from horrible noisy grown-ups.

My mother, when she was there

had beastly friends who teased me

until I cried, ran out of the drawing room,

back to Nanny's sanctuary.

 

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My novel : Victoria Scott's Dilemma is available here. It is rather a charming romantic tale with lots of laughter.

   

 

With best wishes, Patricia