The Man from Middlesbrough

Brighton

Dear Reader, 

I am so sorry that I didn't write my blog last week, I went to Brighton to see my sister who lives there and who has dementia.  It was a 'curates egg' stay with ups and downs.  It is very sad to see someone who was so active and funny become much less so with wild stories of people stealing her things including her jewellery.  None of this was true but I went along with the narrative, even suggesting she went to the police.  She was going to do that she said.  In fact she can't now use her telephone, has hearing problems and difficulty understanding how to use it.  BUT being in the marvelous town of Brighton was a complete treat.  

My daughter Jessica drove my there in her usual responsible way so no worry about the dreadful  M25 and all its traffic problems.  And then suddenly in the sunshine we arrived in delectable Brighton.  We parked outside my sister's house and then trotted up the road to a cafe. This cafe was full of the exciting and interesting people that live there.  Lots of colourful clothes, stripey stockings, small dogs on leads and blonde pony tails by the dozen.  Everyone having a good and fun time.  On Sunday morning Jessica and I left my sister's house and on the way home we sailed down to the sea front.  We walked along the promenade and chomped over pebbles on the beach and then munched a brunch in one of the sea front cafes, watching the world go by, in the sun.   

I always wish I lived in Brighton.  It is a magical place, exciting and colourful and I love it.

                                                                                  

                                                                                        *

From John Clare, 1824 in Northants, September 26th 

'Took a walk in the fields, heard the harvest cricket and shrew-mouse uttering their little chickering songs among the crackling stubble'.

From John Clare, 1824, in Northants, September 29th

'Took a walk in the fields, saw an old wood-style taken away from a favourite spot which it had occupied all my life. The posts were overgrown with ivy and it seem'd so akin to nature and the spot where it stood as tho' it had taken on a lease for an undisturbed existence.  It hurt me to see it was gone'.

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The Man from Middlesbrough  

ordered another cup of tea,
lit another cigarette.

He held his head
in his history-stained hands,
nicotine fingers clutching
tufts of dirty grey hair.
He stared, not-seeing, at
the plastic table-cloth,
his mind numb.

His father, his grandfather,
worked in this shipyard
watched ships lovingly grow
from steel plates to proud traders,
built to sail from the Tees estuary,
into the North Sea
and the world's great oceans.  

In his head the man heard the noise,
music to him, of drag chains,
when a ship pushed along
the greasy slipway, slid into the sea.
And the man thought of his mates,
of shared experiences from schooldays,
first girlfriends, first kisses,
walks in the Cleveland hills.
And he thought of the old canteen,
warm with steam from the tea urn,
from brotherhood.

The man wiped his eyes
with the back of his hand
ordered another cup of tea,
lit another cigarette.

                                                                                   *

With very best wishes, Patricia

 

 

 

 

                                       

Unexpected sorrow

Dear Reader,

I didn't know that, immediately I heard the news of the Queen's death, I would shed a tear.  What is it about the Queen that each of us feel to her we were important and perhaps loved?  I went to the Coronation taken by my godmother, the Countess of Northesk, a childless woman who decided to take me as her guest.  Being very shortsighted I don't remember much detail but do remember being very cold in the Abbey.  Since then she has been our humble, modest and humorous queen setting us an exemplary example of right living.  Living a life of goodness.  She was for me a mother figure, someone reliable, kind, and wise.  So thank you Queen Elizabeth from all my heart.

I wish the King, Charles III, a very happy reign, and very best wishes to him and his Queen Consort.

                                                                                  *

God Knows.   A poem by Minnie Louise Haskins.

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year
"Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown"
and he replied:
"Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way".
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And he led me towards the hills and the breaking of the day in the lone East.

                                                                                    *

An Unexpected Sorrow

I felt the prickles in the
back of my throat,
watched tears run down my cheek
when I heard the news.
This  unique woman, loved by so many
was dead. Had just died.

Why this extreme emotion in myself?
She was for me a role model
of goodness, of discipline, of humility,
which so many of us aspire to.
She never stepped out of line
performed her duties with humour
and constancy.

She was the mother I didn't have,
my safety, my security, my example
of how life should be led
with kindness, humour and wisdom,
She was "Elizabeth the Great" and
I shall miss her until my time is over,
as will so many of us, her devoted subjects.

                                                                                    *

Very best wishes, Patricia

This man

 Dear Reader,

I thought I knew which apple was which and which ones I liked eating most.  But I have been proved wrong this summer.  I thought I was partial to Cox's apples but they didn't come up to my expectations, they were too sour. And then I tried Granny Smiths but I couldn't chew the skins and they were too sour too. So I tried something new.  Pink Lady.  And they are delicious.

In 200BC. Ancient Romans planted apple orchards in Britain.  The Romans discovered apples growing in Syria and were central in dispersing them around the world from there, using the Silk Road as a means of transport from East to West.  The Romans practiced the skill of grafting - selective breeding apples they wanted based on their size and taste.  

Victorian gardeners in England took pride in cross-pollinating and cultivating new varieties.  Often large country estates would compete with one another to present the best fruit dishes on the dining table.  In the walled gardens apple trees were pruned in many unusual forms such as espaliers, cordons and goblets.

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From Francis Kilvert, September 6th, 1875, in Wiltshire

'The morning suddenly became glorious and we saw what had happened in the night.  All nigh long millions of gossamer spiders had been spinning and whole country was covered .....The gossamer webs gleamed and twinkled into crimson and gold and green, like the most exquisite shot-silk dress in the finest texture of gauzy silver wire.   I never saw anything like it or anything so exquisite as 'the Virgin's webs' glowed with changing opal lights and glanced with all the colours of the rainbow.'

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This man

loved blue

it was a ship, a blue ship

that he sailed in

it was his power

made his heart beat faster

drove him along life's waterways

but he sailed away

came adrift

became shipwrecked

no power no heartbeat

this man

had lost the blue

but I made a small ship out of wood

gave it sails of the finest silk

an engine fired with love

now he sails again

his power came back

and I painted the ship blue

for

this man

                                                                                *

With very best wishes, Patricia