Sunday, 24 June 2018
Monday, 7 May 2018
The Secret Life of my Teddy Bear
"The life of a teddy bear"
Paula's contribution: The three little girls were taught by their mother from a
very early age to make their beds almost as soon as they got up in the morning,
and certainly before they went downstairs for breakfast.
The oldest, who had a room all to herself, would plump the two
pillows at the head of her white wooden four-poster bed, and place her Raggedy
Ann doll lovingly in the center of the pillows. A place of pride for her
cherished childhood toy.
The second-oldest, who had to share a room with the youngest
girl, did not have a cherished toy, so to speak. Instead, she carried with her
everywhere a tattered blanket, worn and torn but well-loved nonetheless, the
corner of which she would curl beneath her nose, or her chin, for comfort, as
the situation warranted.
The youngest had no doll, nor blanket. What she had was her
thumb. Two of them, in fact! She sucked her thumb incessantly. She sucked her
thumb while she was reading. She sucked her thumb while watching television. She
sucked her thumb in bed at night. She sucked her thumb on long drives, where
she sat wedged between her two older sisters in the back seat of the family
station wagon.
Her mother thought she would grow out of this. But, when the
youngest was 6 and still sucking her thumb, her mother decided to take action.
She coated the child’s thumb with nasty-tasting medicine.
The youngest sucked, or washed, it off. She tied her thumb to her forefinger.
The youngest sucked the string along with her thumb. She put mittens on the
child. The youngest sucked her thumb through the wool. She sucked her own thumb
in front of the child, to demonstrate how silly it looked. The youngest asked
to taste her mother’s thumb. She cajoled, she bribed, she pleaded, she scolded.
The youngest just stared at her mother with her huge blue eyes, and with her
thumb in her mouth.
The oldest suggested cutting off the youngest girl’s thumbs.
The mother was horrified at this notion. The second-oldest casually added that probably
only one thumb would need to be cut off for the idea to work.
The mother turned to a psychologist, who said the youngest
obviously had an oral fixation that she would carry with her all her life. When
the thumb is no longer a respectable comfort as she ages, the doctor said, she
will drink by sucking on straws. She will eat with her hands so she can suck
her fingers clean. Either that, the psychologist said, or she will just stop
one day. The mother was unsatisfied with this answer.
In time, the three little girls grew, as girls do, and
became adults. The Raggedy Ann doll, dusty and missing an apron string, was
forgotten by the oldest, and was eventually boxed away and stored in the attic.
The blanket, in pieces from repeated washings over the years, was thrown away one
day and was not missed by the second-oldest.
But the thumb. Ah, the thumb. The youngest kept her thumbs
but no longer needed one in her mouth. Because she found something even better.
Much better, in fact.
And now, the man the youngest chose to love and honor all
the days of their lives is a very happy man, indeed.
Jackie's contribution:
Health Benefits of Teddy Bears By Snuffles and Mika Kim
For the past century, teddy bears have enjoyed immense popularity among the young at heart. What many people underestimate is the positive effect these bears have on your health. Not only do teddy bears make wonderful sleep time companions, they are also effective in alleviating many chronic health conditions such as anxiety, depression, insomnia, obesity, flatulence, and ear wax build-up.
Contrary to popular belief, teddy bears do not only come in the colour brown. There exist black, white, red, pink, and even blue bears. However, brown is the traditional colour and is what people seem to be most familiar with. No matter what the colour, teddy bears are beneficial for your health. It is the bear itself that is the effective component, not the colour.
Studies have shown that it is the cuteness and apparent attentiveness of the bear that affects change in a person'?s health status. Cuteness depends on how well-loved a bear appears, roundness of features, and amount of fat the bear possesses. Bears that look too new (e.g. like they have never been touched) or too worn (e.g. they have bits and pieces missing) are not considered as cute as bears that look like they've been slept on for a few years, and still have all of their vital organs (e.g. nose and eyeballs). Round and chubby features are best, but if the bear is too round it can be mistaken for a ball which then renders its health effect nil.
Apparent attentiveness is an important feature, because human owners (also known as parents) of the bears tend to find comfort in the fact that their bears are listening to them. That is what helps the human to feel like their health is improving - the attention factor. Thus, if you have a bear that can't sit up or is always looking at something else when you'?re talking to them, you should find a new bear. The best teddy bears are modeled after wild bears, with the same shape and perky ears. These teddy bears can sit on their bums and look you straight in the eye while you complain about how life sucks, and their round, chubby faces deliver compassion and empathy. However, as these types of teddy bears are quite small compared to wild bears, they are sometimes mistaken for pigs, especially if they are pink in colour. One should be careful to shield these bears from hearing such comments, as they then become angry and resentful, which decreases their ability to improve your health condition.
Teddy bears are the best companions to have because they provide help in a wide range of areas. They aren't only good for sleeping and cuddling, which is what most people think. They have also been known to help students prepare for speeches, throw surprise birthday celebrations, provide therapy, and dispose of leftover honey. And, despite working so hard, teddy bears don'?t need regular baths. Actually, they don't need baths at all! You should never wash your teddy bear, as washing also decreases their healing potential. This is a fact.
In recent years, imposters such as teddy ducks, teddy dogs, teddy cats, and even teddy cows have made an appearance. Don'?t be fooled, as these charlatans cannot heal the way teddy bears can. If you want to improve your health, teddy bears are the genuine article. If you REALLY want to improve your health, you should leave some cookies out for your teddy bears. Scientists are not sure how or why this works, but it does.
____________________________________________________________________
Monica's contribution
March 2018.
The secret iii'e of my Teddies.
i wouiri iike to introduce you to the magicai and secret ii{b of Bo Bear and Bruno.
Bo Bear is about 55 years oid anti Bruno about 30 years old , Bo bear is quite a iarge
tedciy bear rounci , wirh beiis in his ears and a growl sadiy over the years he seems to
have iost his growi he has a ioveiy smiiey face. And he has hati four quite serious
operations aii four pads repiace twice he was very brave especiaiiy the second time
when he was suddeniy wirisked of his iarge piiiows were he resides on the bed anci
with out a word oilvarning a huge needie was siuck inio his pacis.
iviy eariiest memory is si*ing on a sheif in a depanment store in Sutton High Street
Surrey In rhe toy departmeni. , as young as i rn'as i reaiiseri it must be Ciuisimas by tire
decorations and the music- piaying i was hoping someone wouiti buy me quickiy and i
wouiri go to a nice home be ioved anri treasured ior years , iots of te<idy's toys and
rioiis were disappearing of the sheives and my heart was begging to sink as i tiidt want
to be stuffed in a box and pui in a dark store room ior a year, these thoughts w'ere very
irighiening,
-fhe store was quire for the time of ,v-ear, anci the horrifying thoughts becoming more
reai when a nice taii man came in anci was giving my sheif a lot of attention the
assistant reached up and took a coupie of soft toys down for him to hoid and iook at
aiso a cioii very extravagately dressed i didt iike her much i haci tried to speak to her
just after midnight when we roys aii come aiive but she was so haughty she wouiti't
even answer me, no thank you i cant have the doii because I am buying something ior
our first baby that hast been born yet and in those far away rjays you di<it know w'har tcr
except , the nice man looked again aiong the sheive how did i miss that ioveiy bear
with his ioveiy smiiey iace, the assisted reached me ciow"n gave me a hug i iove him
she said to the nice man me too he saici i wiil take him, I w'as put in io a large box rviih
pienty of room , the box beauiiful wrappeci anci there i ha<i to stay untii Christmas tiay.
The excitemenr that greeted me on Christmas moming was woncierfui every one ioveci
me ihe mummy to be *-as tieiighieri with a present for thef'e unborn baby and the
grandparents to be w'ere equaily deiighted :;-u-
Cirristmas night i was raken up to the nursery a very posh worci for the iitiie box room
but is was'oeautiiuiiy decorated with a iemon and white crib aw-aiting this baby so
there i sat for a fbw w'eeks untii great joy the baby and mummy iraci arriveri home
from hospitai, anci Jane anti I became great friends she ioved me anci when she crie<i i
aiways reassured her mummy wouid be her.in a moment she i<now's you are hungry '
One day Jane anri I moved ro another room anti the Nursery was spnlced up for
another baby, this iime a boy, boih chiidren piayeci r.vith me but i dici beiong io Jane
and she was quite posiiive ab€at I was her tedtiy .
The years rglled by and I silent watcheri the joys the sorrows the iarniiy dramas iire
rows the heari breaks and suddenly jane was married , I didt move with her i stayed
with the parents and moved to their room. Anci suddeniy iife changed my worse
nightmare happened i was pui in io a box and stored for months. noi knowing whar
was happing.
AIier many monihs I was unpackeci anci put on a big bed, anci i reaiise<i iheir was no
husbanei just Jane's mum anci myseif Jane and Cari boih had their own piaces to
live how-i misseei the chiidren because i useri to taik to them at night sometimes
chastening them aboui their siii cluarrels .
However i siowiy began ro reaiise we in a very pretty iittie cottage in Keni wiiir a
iovely big garden i could see from the beci were i sat , the tears tirat were sheti at nighi
were distressing io say the iest, i missed the chiidren very much anci was very ionely,
"then one riay a iriend arrived for me whai excitement wiren were induceri to one
another and we chaned way in to rhe night he ha<i had quite an adventure zurd hati
traveiled ali the way from Canada with Jane's Liother iike me he was on a shelf for a
iirtie whiie insirie a big piastic bag can you beiier.e he toiti me he was terrified of
suiiocation aithough there lvas a tiny tear in tire bag much to Bruno reiief iane's
mother and iane had come in io the airpon shop i.o cio some souvenir shopping
because iane haci been snow skiing they hadn"t had an opportuniry beiore io shop
rogether it was mother thai saw me first Bnto u'as teliing me and she iilied me ciown
huggeri me and was saying to.iane i iove him they she put me back on the sheiino i
wanted ro scream, why Have you pur him back iane asked weii how ridicuious is thai
said her mother a women of over fiiry iaiiing in iove with a bear, bttt mum he is
beauiiiui he rvouid iook iovely iaying on your beci no perhaps a chiid wiii buy irim,
he his suoh a repiica of a biack bear and ire is so big how wiii i get him home he w'iii
go in the over head iocker Jane said looking arounri and buying gifts me holciing my
breathe please buy me and suddeniy they had paici for the gifts and waikeci out the
shop no i aimost cried out loud they joined the iine to board ihe plane suddeniy Jane
saici mum i meant ro get us a botiie of water anci she ran back in to the shop grabbeci
me off the shelve paid ior me ran back tiuough me in to her mothers arms and yeiied
so the whoie worlcl couici hear Fiappy Nelv year ivium. NIum cried i w"as indeeci
stuffed in rhe over head hoici but noi before a kind hostess took ihe bag oimy hearj
and said we don't wont your trear io suffocare up there .
So iiie joggeci on for many years and Bruno and i have become the best of frieniis soui
mates in fact we have seen many changes in this ioveiy cotiage a ielv iovers come anci
go and then suddeniy great excitement a weci<iing wili Jane's mother find happiness
again bur first we haci to go through the saddest year of Bruno and my iife"s i hari
aireariy experienced death but not Bruno , we reaiiseci something \e'as wrong as mother
was aw'ay a iot it is amazing rn'hat we bears pick up irom you humans .we
found out iane hari iiieci i was devastated how-couid this strong heaithy young w'oillen
oi 37 die the unborn baby i w-as bought for Bruno was a tou'er of strerrgth to nte over
that difticult year and once again ihe tears at night were distressing, Bruno was aiso
cievasiateci as Jane haci bought him for her mother .
Bruno comioned her as in his iaying ciown position.iane's moiher couiti cuddie him ai
nighi .and for many months our worids stood stiii .
zrncl then came the wedciing great excitemeni and much love anci happiness that
speciai day in our iives, after ihe excitemenr oithe wedding peopie coming and going
lrienrjs anci reiations from aii round the wori<i , we experienceti another period of
unsettiement where upon w.e were both stuiibd into packing cases thank goociness we
rvere together , Bruno is a bit more inteiiigent then me and he pick ihings up quickiy
he reaiiseri we were moving that's why we *ere in the packing case moving , moving
where i exc.iaimeci Bruno was quite excited w.hen he was expiaining ro me \&'ere
moving ro France irrance i exciaimed again i cant go to Franoe I have never been
sutsicie Engianti and i don't speak the ianguage Coming from Canada Bruno ciid speak
French i wiii heip you he said reassuring me .
I{e took ciays befure we Saw'our new home anci when we ciici we were noi
disappoini.ed we iove ihe house as much as the newiy weds, we have been irere in
France fourteen years now and r,l,e are still witness our rnistress joys and somows and
the circle ol'lifb we love her and w'e know she loves us.
Jackie's contribution:
Health Benefits of Teddy Bears By Snuffles and Mika Kim
For the past century, teddy bears have enjoyed immense popularity among the young at heart. What many people underestimate is the positive effect these bears have on your health. Not only do teddy bears make wonderful sleep time companions, they are also effective in alleviating many chronic health conditions such as anxiety, depression, insomnia, obesity, flatulence, and ear wax build-up.
Contrary to popular belief, teddy bears do not only come in the colour brown. There exist black, white, red, pink, and even blue bears. However, brown is the traditional colour and is what people seem to be most familiar with. No matter what the colour, teddy bears are beneficial for your health. It is the bear itself that is the effective component, not the colour.
Studies have shown that it is the cuteness and apparent attentiveness of the bear that affects change in a person'?s health status. Cuteness depends on how well-loved a bear appears, roundness of features, and amount of fat the bear possesses. Bears that look too new (e.g. like they have never been touched) or too worn (e.g. they have bits and pieces missing) are not considered as cute as bears that look like they've been slept on for a few years, and still have all of their vital organs (e.g. nose and eyeballs). Round and chubby features are best, but if the bear is too round it can be mistaken for a ball which then renders its health effect nil.
Apparent attentiveness is an important feature, because human owners (also known as parents) of the bears tend to find comfort in the fact that their bears are listening to them. That is what helps the human to feel like their health is improving - the attention factor. Thus, if you have a bear that can't sit up or is always looking at something else when you'?re talking to them, you should find a new bear. The best teddy bears are modeled after wild bears, with the same shape and perky ears. These teddy bears can sit on their bums and look you straight in the eye while you complain about how life sucks, and their round, chubby faces deliver compassion and empathy. However, as these types of teddy bears are quite small compared to wild bears, they are sometimes mistaken for pigs, especially if they are pink in colour. One should be careful to shield these bears from hearing such comments, as they then become angry and resentful, which decreases their ability to improve your health condition.
Teddy bears are the best companions to have because they provide help in a wide range of areas. They aren't only good for sleeping and cuddling, which is what most people think. They have also been known to help students prepare for speeches, throw surprise birthday celebrations, provide therapy, and dispose of leftover honey. And, despite working so hard, teddy bears don'?t need regular baths. Actually, they don't need baths at all! You should never wash your teddy bear, as washing also decreases their healing potential. This is a fact.
In recent years, imposters such as teddy ducks, teddy dogs, teddy cats, and even teddy cows have made an appearance. Don'?t be fooled, as these charlatans cannot heal the way teddy bears can. If you want to improve your health, teddy bears are the genuine article. If you REALLY want to improve your health, you should leave some cookies out for your teddy bears. Scientists are not sure how or why this works, but it does.
____________________________________________________________________
Monica's contribution
March 2018.
The secret iii'e of my Teddies.
i wouiri iike to introduce you to the magicai and secret ii{b of Bo Bear and Bruno.
Bo Bear is about 55 years oid anti Bruno about 30 years old , Bo bear is quite a iarge
tedciy bear rounci , wirh beiis in his ears and a growl sadiy over the years he seems to
have iost his growi he has a ioveiy smiiey face. And he has hati four quite serious
operations aii four pads repiace twice he was very brave especiaiiy the second time
when he was suddeniy wirisked of his iarge piiiows were he resides on the bed anci
with out a word oilvarning a huge needie was siuck inio his pacis.
iviy eariiest memory is si*ing on a sheif in a depanment store in Sutton High Street
Surrey In rhe toy departmeni. , as young as i rn'as i reaiiseri it must be Ciuisimas by tire
decorations and the music- piaying i was hoping someone wouiti buy me quickiy and i
wouiri go to a nice home be ioved anri treasured ior years , iots of te<idy's toys and
rioiis were disappearing of the sheives and my heart was begging to sink as i tiidt want
to be stuffed in a box and pui in a dark store room ior a year, these thoughts w'ere very
irighiening,
-fhe store was quire for the time of ,v-ear, anci the horrifying thoughts becoming more
reai when a nice taii man came in anci was giving my sheif a lot of attention the
assistant reached up and took a coupie of soft toys down for him to hoid and iook at
aiso a cioii very extravagately dressed i didt iike her much i haci tried to speak to her
just after midnight when we roys aii come aiive but she was so haughty she wouiti't
even answer me, no thank you i cant have the doii because I am buying something ior
our first baby that hast been born yet and in those far away rjays you di<it know w'har tcr
except , the nice man looked again aiong the sheive how did i miss that ioveiy bear
with his ioveiy smiiey iace, the assisted reached me ciow"n gave me a hug i iove him
she said to the nice man me too he saici i wiil take him, I w'as put in io a large box rviih
pienty of room , the box beauiiful wrappeci anci there i ha<i to stay untii Christmas tiay.
The excitemenr that greeted me on Christmas moming was woncierfui every one ioveci
me ihe mummy to be *-as tieiighieri with a present for thef'e unborn baby and the
grandparents to be w'ere equaily deiighted :;-u-
Cirristmas night i was raken up to the nursery a very posh worci for the iitiie box room
but is was'oeautiiuiiy decorated with a iemon and white crib aw-aiting this baby so
there i sat for a fbw w'eeks untii great joy the baby and mummy iraci arriveri home
from hospitai, anci Jane anti I became great friends she ioved me anci when she crie<i i
aiways reassured her mummy wouid be her.in a moment she i<now's you are hungry '
One day Jane anri I moved ro another room anti the Nursery was spnlced up for
another baby, this iime a boy, boih chiidren piayeci r.vith me but i dici beiong io Jane
and she was quite posiiive ab€at I was her tedtiy .
The years rglled by and I silent watcheri the joys the sorrows the iarniiy dramas iire
rows the heari breaks and suddenly jane was married , I didt move with her i stayed
with the parents and moved to their room. Anci suddeniy iife changed my worse
nightmare happened i was pui in io a box and stored for months. noi knowing whar
was happing.
AIier many monihs I was unpackeci anci put on a big bed, anci i reaiise<i iheir was no
husbanei just Jane's mum anci myseif Jane and Cari boih had their own piaces to
live how-i misseei the chiidren because i useri to taik to them at night sometimes
chastening them aboui their siii cluarrels .
However i siowiy began ro reaiise we in a very pretty iittie cottage in Keni wiiir a
iovely big garden i could see from the beci were i sat , the tears tirat were sheti at nighi
were distressing io say the iest, i missed the chiidren very much anci was very ionely,
"then one riay a iriend arrived for me whai excitement wiren were induceri to one
another and we chaned way in to rhe night he ha<i had quite an adventure zurd hati
traveiled ali the way from Canada with Jane's Liother iike me he was on a shelf for a
iirtie whiie insirie a big piastic bag can you beiier.e he toiti me he was terrified of
suiiocation aithough there lvas a tiny tear in tire bag much to Bruno reiief iane's
mother and iane had come in io the airpon shop i.o cio some souvenir shopping
because iane haci been snow skiing they hadn"t had an opportuniry beiore io shop
rogether it was mother thai saw me first Bnto u'as teliing me and she iilied me ciown
huggeri me and was saying to.iane i iove him they she put me back on the sheiino i
wanted ro scream, why Have you pur him back iane asked weii how ridicuious is thai
said her mother a women of over fiiry iaiiing in iove with a bear, bttt mum he is
beauiiiui he rvouid iook iovely iaying on your beci no perhaps a chiid wiii buy irim,
he his suoh a repiica of a biack bear and ire is so big how wiii i get him home he w'iii
go in the over head iocker Jane said looking arounri and buying gifts me holciing my
breathe please buy me and suddeniy they had paici for the gifts and waikeci out the
shop no i aimost cried out loud they joined the iine to board ihe plane suddeniy Jane
saici mum i meant ro get us a botiie of water anci she ran back in to the shop grabbeci
me off the shelve paid ior me ran back tiuough me in to her mothers arms and yeiied
so the whoie worlcl couici hear Fiappy Nelv year ivium. NIum cried i w"as indeeci
stuffed in rhe over head hoici but noi before a kind hostess took ihe bag oimy hearj
and said we don't wont your trear io suffocare up there .
So iiie joggeci on for many years and Bruno and i have become the best of frieniis soui
mates in fact we have seen many changes in this ioveiy cotiage a ielv iovers come anci
go and then suddeniy great excitement a weci<iing wili Jane's mother find happiness
again bur first we haci to go through the saddest year of Bruno and my iife"s i hari
aireariy experienced death but not Bruno , we reaiiseci something \e'as wrong as mother
was aw'ay a iot it is amazing rn'hat we bears pick up irom you humans .we
found out iane hari iiieci i was devastated how-couid this strong heaithy young w'oillen
oi 37 die the unborn baby i w-as bought for Bruno was a tou'er of strerrgth to nte over
that difticult year and once again ihe tears at night were distressing, Bruno was aiso
cievasiateci as Jane haci bought him for her mother .
Bruno comioned her as in his iaying ciown position.iane's moiher couiti cuddie him ai
nighi .and for many months our worids stood stiii .
zrncl then came the wedciing great excitemeni and much love anci happiness that
speciai day in our iives, after ihe excitemenr oithe wedding peopie coming and going
lrienrjs anci reiations from aii round the wori<i , we experienceti another period of
unsettiement where upon w.e were both stuiibd into packing cases thank goociness we
rvere together , Bruno is a bit more inteiiigent then me and he pick ihings up quickiy
he reaiiseri we were moving that's why we *ere in the packing case moving , moving
where i exc.iaimeci Bruno was quite excited w.hen he was expiaining ro me \&'ere
moving ro France irrance i exciaimed again i cant go to Franoe I have never been
sutsicie Engianti and i don't speak the ianguage Coming from Canada Bruno ciid speak
French i wiii heip you he said reassuring me .
I{e took ciays befure we Saw'our new home anci when we ciici we were noi
disappoini.ed we iove ihe house as much as the newiy weds, we have been irere in
France fourteen years now and r,l,e are still witness our rnistress joys and somows and
the circle ol'lifb we love her and w'e know she loves us.
IN the middle of nowhere - story writing on the 7th May 2018
The Middle of Nowhere
Annemarie's contribution:
It was the day after my sixth birthday.
I had been outside all day playing cricket on the beach with my friends. I
heard my mother call 'Garfield, Garfield, come in for supper. It's your
favourite - fried chicken and calalloo."
I was home as quick as my legs would run. But this time family supper was different; there was a seriousness, but also a hint of excitement, fluttering between my mother and father. They had a big piece of paper on the table and explained that our Mother Country, Great Britain, we're offering free passage to England. Of course I knew nothing of our mother country other than her history, which we learnt about in school but Dad had volunteered to fight in their RAF during the terrible war which had devastated so many countries. He was eager to get back into the RAF and told Mum and me that we would be helping our mother country as they had lost so many young men in the war. It would be an opportunity for her to enjoy all the modern things over there and I would go to school . What an opportunity for us all, said Dad! And Aunt Taniyah , mum's youngest sister would come with us.
I remember so well the journey over on a ship called The Empire Windrush. It was crammed with returning soldiers and about 300 of us Jamaicans. Our anticipation was somewhat dulled when we docked early in the morning, all grey, dreary and misty, each of us hanging onto a small suitcase with all our worldly possessions. The people in Britain were mostly in dark clothes and I already missed the sun, beach and the island's brightly coloured, patterned clothes and of course my grandparents whose house was next door to ours, but as Dad said, this was a land of promise and we would soon earn enough to travel back to see them.
Well, it was not quite as easy as that! First Dad was not accepted back into the RAF so he eventually got a job on one of the big red London buses, clipping the travellers' tickets - and Mum? Well though she had not had a job in Jamaica since she had looked after the family, two sisters and my grandparents. She had cultivated a wonderfully productive vegetable garden which she couldn't do here in south London as we had to live in three very cramped rented rooms.
I was home as quick as my legs would run. But this time family supper was different; there was a seriousness, but also a hint of excitement, fluttering between my mother and father. They had a big piece of paper on the table and explained that our Mother Country, Great Britain, we're offering free passage to England. Of course I knew nothing of our mother country other than her history, which we learnt about in school but Dad had volunteered to fight in their RAF during the terrible war which had devastated so many countries. He was eager to get back into the RAF and told Mum and me that we would be helping our mother country as they had lost so many young men in the war. It would be an opportunity for her to enjoy all the modern things over there and I would go to school . What an opportunity for us all, said Dad! And Aunt Taniyah , mum's youngest sister would come with us.
I remember so well the journey over on a ship called The Empire Windrush. It was crammed with returning soldiers and about 300 of us Jamaicans. Our anticipation was somewhat dulled when we docked early in the morning, all grey, dreary and misty, each of us hanging onto a small suitcase with all our worldly possessions. The people in Britain were mostly in dark clothes and I already missed the sun, beach and the island's brightly coloured, patterned clothes and of course my grandparents whose house was next door to ours, but as Dad said, this was a land of promise and we would soon earn enough to travel back to see them.
Well, it was not quite as easy as that! First Dad was not accepted back into the RAF so he eventually got a job on one of the big red London buses, clipping the travellers' tickets - and Mum? Well though she had not had a job in Jamaica since she had looked after the family, two sisters and my grandparents. She had cultivated a wonderfully productive vegetable garden which she couldn't do here in south London as we had to live in three very cramped rented rooms.
Mum started work in the hospital and started
her training to be a nurse.
'But things would get better,' Dad said, 'after all our Mother Country needs us.'
Dad never did get to join the RAF but Mum did get her nursing qualifications and we did manage to buy a small terraced house in a street where most of our Jamaican friends lived. I hardly knew a white Briton except the teachers at school and in the shops. Contrary to what we were expecting when we were invited we didn't find our white Britons very welcoming, in fact they seemed resentful and as soon as one or two of us bought a house in the same street the white Britons put their houses up for sale and moved to pastures new.
'But things would get better,' Dad said, 'after all our Mother Country needs us.'
Dad never did get to join the RAF but Mum did get her nursing qualifications and we did manage to buy a small terraced house in a street where most of our Jamaican friends lived. I hardly knew a white Briton except the teachers at school and in the shops. Contrary to what we were expecting when we were invited we didn't find our white Britons very welcoming, in fact they seemed resentful and as soon as one or two of us bought a house in the same street the white Britons put their houses up for sale and moved to pastures new.
'Well we have the house now and soon we will
have enough to visit Jamaica and the family.' said Dad, ever optimistic.
We never did earn enough money to go back and
see my grandparents before they died. In the seventies new laws were brought in
and we soon discovered that life would change considerably for us and by us I
don,t mean just my family. Weston, two doors down from us, was not allowed back
into the country after a hasty visit to see his dying mother and then attend
her funeral. Weston had lived in Britain for thirty-six years, paid his taxes,
paid his rent and raised a family. It is now thirteen years since he has seen
his daughter.
The first hint of our problems regarding our British citizenship came when Aunt Taniyah had to go for an operation. She had already had one operation under the NHS and now was to have a second with chemo treatment to follow. As she had no proof of landing papar, passport etc. she was denied the treatment under NHS and told she would have to pay the cost herself. Where were we to find money like that? Why had we been paying our taxes? Then the government brought in new laws as the white population raged against the 'immigrants taking over their country'.
The first hint of our problems regarding our British citizenship came when Aunt Taniyah had to go for an operation. She had already had one operation under the NHS and now was to have a second with chemo treatment to follow. As she had no proof of landing papar, passport etc. she was denied the treatment under NHS and told she would have to pay the cost herself. Where were we to find money like that? Why had we been paying our taxes? Then the government brought in new laws as the white population raged against the 'immigrants taking over their country'.
The hospitable invitation in times of need
had become a hostile environment.
My turn came when I applied for a job
teaching history in a local school but I had no papers and no passport as I had
come with my parents at the invitation of Britain with the promise of
everlasting citizenship. We did not know that in deep the Home Office vaults
someone had shredded all our landing cards which proved when we had come
into this country.
'It will be alright, 'my father said, this
has been our home for the last forty years.;
So much for his conviction - the next
thing I knew I, his only son, was about to be deported back to Jamaica, a place
I did not even know and have not seen for thirty-six years. The home office was
even so good as to give me a leaflet which offered a list of dos and
don’ts for people being deported to Jamaica, including the tip: “Try
to be ‘Jamaican’ – use local accents and dialect”. It advised deportees
that “overseas accents can attract unwanted attention”.
“How exactly can someone pretend to ‘be
Jamaican’ when they are British and have lived here all their lives?”
'I'm sure things will turn out right in the
end,' says my ever trustful father.
So here I am in a foreign place, no
passport for Jamaica and no wish to live there and not wanted in Britain. And I
wait month after month in this crowded
land for Mrs. May and her government to sort things out but in reality I'm
in the middle of nowhere.
In the middle of nowhere, I found everything that I had been
looking for.
My journey to the middle of nowhere was literal. It required
a 17-hour flight, then a five-hour flight, then a two-hour flight, then a
three-hour ride in a four-wheel drive vehicle built to navigate rocky strip
mines.
When I left New Orleans, I could point to where I was going
on the map. But I was lost. I felt like I needed to take a leap of faith. Traveling
to the other side of the planet seemed like as good an idea as any.
The invitation came unexpectedly, from a close friend whom I
had known for more than 20 years. I adored him – but with the care and distance
that men and women do when they are married to other people. Which is to say, I
knew him well, and not at all.
One morning the phone rang, and I smiled when I saw his name
on the screen. “I have to go to Australia and do some work, but then my friends
and I are going into the Outback for a week .... Why don’t you come down and meet
me?”
Come down, like he was just downstairs waiting. Not “come
down to the other side of the world, to a place you’ve never been before.”
Yet his timing was impeccable. I was unmoored in my life,
and he knew it. My marriage had failed, and I wasn’t sure why. I was alone for
the first time since college, and unsure where my life was headed. He was
divorced, too, but had been on his own for longer, had seen other people,
seemed contented.
We knew each other well enough for me to believe that when
his invitation came, he wasn’t necessarily asking as a friend. I was surprised
to find myself happy about that. I only took a moment to decide.
“OK,” I said. “How do I get there?”
As I walked off the plane in Perth after 22 hours in the
air, he was waiting at the gate. When I saw him, I could see that he had tears
in his eyes. So did I. He reached out to hug me, and for the first time in
months, I could feel oxygen in my lungs. Finally, he pulled away, looked down at
me, smiled, and said: “Come meet my friends.”
Bill and Sean were waiting at the top of the concourse. I
did not know then that his friends would become mine, so important and dear to
me. But they greeted me like I already was, to them. That said something
important about the kinds of friends he had.
After a night’s sleep, I was still jet-lagged. But we were
up at dawn for another two-hour flight, to an airstrip that served one of the
largest open-pit mines in the world. Paraburdoo was a mining town through and
through. But it was also the gateway to Karijini National Park. That’s how we
ended up in a rented Toyota Land Cruiser with flashing yellow lights and a tall
orange flag on the back, streaking through the red clay roads of the Western
Australian outback.
Our destination was an “eco-resort” in the middle of the
park. It was a step up from camping, but at least one down from a comfy hotel
room. Which is to say, it had a real bed, but in a wood-floored tent. Running
water, but a bathroom open to the sky. A flush toilet, but one that you needed
to keep closed, lest the frogs get to know you intimately, from below, in the
middle of the night. If you know what I mean.
Sean couldn’t make the trip, but three more new friends,
Michael and Amy and Greer, joined us. They welcomed me with the same openness:
You are a friend here. You are accepted. You are safe.
That first day in Karijini, Bill had arranged a small bus
tour with Baz, a garrulous and friendly Australian who had lived in the area
his whole life. Baz showed us several of the beautiful red sandstone canyons
and gorges, the waterfalls leading into them, the cold, deep lagoons at the
head of each cleft. Fortified with this lay-of-the-land overview, we retired to
Bill’s veranda for cocktails and sunset amid the stark beauty of the landscape.
As the shadows lengthened and the vodka started going to my
head, I said goodnight and retired to my cabin. As I drifted to sleep, I was
thinking about how amazing the day had been, about how much I had enjoyed his
closeness to me all day. And I couldn’t wait to see what the next day would
bring.
I awoke in the dark, disoriented in that way you are when
you’re far from home. I did not know how long I’d been asleep, and I was unsure
what had awakened me. Then I heard his voice: “Are you awake? Come outside. I
have something to show you.”
I could see a small circle of light just outside my tent
cabin, where he was shining his flashlight on the porch. I dressed quickly against
the night chill, and came out to find a blanket stretched out on the ground, in
the open a little way from the porch of my cabin. I was a little nervous.
“I want to show you the sky,” he said as he led me to the
blanket. We lay down next to each other, not touching, and I looked up.
What greeted me was a field of stars like nothing I’ve seen
before or since. The sky was brilliant, full, unfamiliar. But the thing that
took my breath away cut right through the center of the blinking black, from
the horizon all the way past the zenith. It was like a giant sideways mouth,
filled with stars, but also clouds of light, and streaks of color, glowing red
and blue.
It was one of the most stunning things I’d ever seen. “My
God, it’s beautiful,” I said.
“That’s what the Milky Way looks like,” he said, “when you
go somewhere where you can really see it.”
We lay in silent wonder for what seemed like a long time.
The only sounds were the light rustle of the breeze in the trees, our breathing,
and my heart pounding in my ears.
Then with a small catch in his voice, he whispered, “I can’t
tell you how happy I am that you decided to come.”
I reached for his hand at the same moment he reached for
mine, finally crossing the boundary we had held between us for so long. Here in
the dark, 10,000 miles from New Orleans, lying in the middle of nowhere, I knew
that I was finally home.
__________________________________________________________________________
Jackie's contribution:
Three men blocked the path of Miss Mary Hay who was on her way to start a missionary station in East Griqaland an area of South Africa. One man was extremely tall and the other two stood stocky with bulging muscles shining, melting in the scorching heat. They stood like trees swaying gently in rhythm to the heat waves, shimmering and radiating like a hazy mirage.
All three were black as coal their bodies glowing and glistening with sweat the white of their eyes like stars on midsummers night. Faces scarred and marked by tribal traditions. Feathers, beads and necklaces, bracelets adorned their heads, ankles and wrists like turkeys trussed for Thanksgiving - the middle man held a sharpened spearhead which reminded Mary Hay briefly of the ones she had studied in a Glasgow museum a few months before coming to SA as a young 23 year old missionary girl - he pointed the spear towards her as if she, a slight Scottish lass on her quest could be a threat. They advanced together gesticulating, intimidating, pointing - menacing - she must have wandered onto forbidden territory.
Alone in the what seemed like the middle of nowhere Mary Hay had arrived to spread the word of her God through the United Free Church of Scotland by holding classes for native women. Most of whom had never seen a white person before. Sent to help spread her faith but most of all set up missionary schools and chapels to spread the light of her faith.
…she shuddered and shifted slightly in her saddle, her horse sensing discomfort stepped back two or three paces flaring his nostrils with a scent of the unknown but the men advanced slowly, one of them pointed to the ground and mumbled in a language she couldn’t understand. Her horse reared and she fell, bruised and shaken - looking up she saw a dark face staring down at her with spear raised - she watched as he lifted his arm and she could feel the rush of air as it hit target - was this to be the end of her journey before she had really started? She felt herself being rolled into the dirt and then a cry of triumph from all three men as one of them lifted up with his spear a 5 meter long snake still writhing in his grip.
In a split second he beheaded it split it’s belly down the middle with his blade and turned it inside out - scraping and cleaning it with nearby cottonwood branches …There were broad smiles and laughter all round as Mary Hay brushed herself off and the three men came over to shake her hand . Welcome to our village Miss Mary Hay.
The villagers were lined up on either side of the dirt road Singing and dancing, colourful clothes, drums beating, children running up to meet her. Hands outstretched in greeting - Mary Hay was met with excitement. It was an honour for a village to receive a missionary; a prestigious gift and everyone was so proud to be the first to see a white woman among them.
My great great Aunt - Her very first African adventure.
______________________________________________________________________
Monica's contribution: Typed on another typewriter so some of the words are mixed.
Jackie's contribution:
Three men blocked the path of Miss Mary Hay who was on her way to start a missionary station in East Griqaland an area of South Africa. One man was extremely tall and the other two stood stocky with bulging muscles shining, melting in the scorching heat. They stood like trees swaying gently in rhythm to the heat waves, shimmering and radiating like a hazy mirage.
All three were black as coal their bodies glowing and glistening with sweat the white of their eyes like stars on midsummers night. Faces scarred and marked by tribal traditions. Feathers, beads and necklaces, bracelets adorned their heads, ankles and wrists like turkeys trussed for Thanksgiving - the middle man held a sharpened spearhead which reminded Mary Hay briefly of the ones she had studied in a Glasgow museum a few months before coming to SA as a young 23 year old missionary girl - he pointed the spear towards her as if she, a slight Scottish lass on her quest could be a threat. They advanced together gesticulating, intimidating, pointing - menacing - she must have wandered onto forbidden territory.
Alone in the what seemed like the middle of nowhere Mary Hay had arrived to spread the word of her God through the United Free Church of Scotland by holding classes for native women. Most of whom had never seen a white person before. Sent to help spread her faith but most of all set up missionary schools and chapels to spread the light of her faith.
…she shuddered and shifted slightly in her saddle, her horse sensing discomfort stepped back two or three paces flaring his nostrils with a scent of the unknown but the men advanced slowly, one of them pointed to the ground and mumbled in a language she couldn’t understand. Her horse reared and she fell, bruised and shaken - looking up she saw a dark face staring down at her with spear raised - she watched as he lifted his arm and she could feel the rush of air as it hit target - was this to be the end of her journey before she had really started? She felt herself being rolled into the dirt and then a cry of triumph from all three men as one of them lifted up with his spear a 5 meter long snake still writhing in his grip.
In a split second he beheaded it split it’s belly down the middle with his blade and turned it inside out - scraping and cleaning it with nearby cottonwood branches …There were broad smiles and laughter all round as Mary Hay brushed herself off and the three men came over to shake her hand . Welcome to our village Miss Mary Hay.
The villagers were lined up on either side of the dirt road Singing and dancing, colourful clothes, drums beating, children running up to meet her. Hands outstretched in greeting - Mary Hay was met with excitement. It was an honour for a village to receive a missionary; a prestigious gift and everyone was so proud to be the first to see a white woman among them.
My great great Aunt - Her very first African adventure.
______________________________________________________________________
Monica's contribution: Typed on another typewriter so some of the words are mixed.
In the Micidle of Know where
Rebecca iiever tii.ed of watcliiiig botli tiie Set tiiig air,i tiie i'isiiig or"ilie
suii eveil after aii ihese Jvears uf iiviiig in her littie Croft in tire iiii,i,iic of
Know-wlere , SLre was an oid iady now and tende,i to relive heriifb
sitting watching the Suii Sipping irer= \'vhiskey if it was evetring time.
Liie at'rlie beggirg wasn't eas) or-r this croft she was a Lontiorrer wiih a
iit'r.le money it took a long tiine for'her to'oecotne excepted in to tiris hard
brutai way of iife, to go back'ro London woul'i have l:een a faial faiier'
fbr Rebecca eveii itio\ iltg io a Towtt in Scotlan,J, wlricir slie had
corrsi,Jered at orre poini in her time here -would also ltavc been a faiier in
her eyes , Rebecca rtevel' faiieti at anytliing slie sct ltei' iitiiid too .
Aftei her iiusbarrd irad ,iie,i in a ,irurtketr Accideut aiong witir flcur of iris
Ri;gby ivfates Ret-recca took a long irar=d iook ai iift irerself and her job
ihe ilrree other widows had remarrie,j ovet'the yeal's exchanging orre ricli
irusband ior a richer one , because her husbands deatir couirJ have beert
avoide,i iithey all w=eren't so ,irunk it took her a loiig tiine to con-re io
tenns noi only her grief but this catastropire iiie charrging event '
Charles arli Rebecca were one of 'uhese dreanr couples aird wet'e a soiid
togetlier-on the sarne wave iength an,i woul,i have beeii the sort of couple
iii tlieir oid age as soul niates .
The iuxurl flat became soulless and i'r was quickiy ren'red out atl,i herjoi:
ai a sinall finance cotrlpaily slnall by 'r.;,3ay's stanriarris becaure fileaii
less so after movirrg oui in to ihe coutriiy sire left lier jo'o, fbr' ihe nex'i
fb-w non'rhs slie ina,ie soil1e quiie serious iinprovemenis to the coitage
she ira,J bougirt when corrrpieted sire iei it out aud wetrt traveliing not
abroa,i btii tire irigir larrds an,i lowlatiris of Scotiand an,i iiris is wtrere slie
siumble,i across tiris iittie croft . i'r wasn'i love at fir"st sigirt she triade
enquires and rented a rooni a few iriiles away w-ltere she walke,i to it nros'r
l^_-_ uaJvs
Clofting is a srnall scale Sustainabie agricuiiure some oithe crofter kepi
Goais or sheep or cows but Rebecca di,iii'i watrt to keep atlitnals she
warrte$ to Carden on a small scale herbs planis that would grow in'uiris
Hais[ etivirorriiieiii and clo Toui'isnr iioi on a lai'ge scale, the cr:oft was in
e1
tl.re remoie nor*rlr westerly islar.rd of Sco.ularr.j two 'u*, "*',l'
,-,.0
before yor,i evell irrrJ ir1. place how Rebecca s-rut-nLr1ed upon tiris she
doest reai reaily;.;*] p..r*pr I i;rt *"t the road less tt'aveile'. sire says
AcrossthewhoieofScotiancithereareiTthousaniiscroftsmost
abandoned ihese rlay sorne ,tot *o'ittcr at ail o'uhels jtrst have'oeen
bougirt by rich tu"io*"tr and iurtre'J in to holiday reutals'
CroftinglrasasetofRulesan.Jreguiatiotrlthat,JatebacktotiieiS
hundre,is an'J you have 'r'o be app'"outd Rel:ecca trow day dreairring
re1-reillbers'rhe nightrrrare oijur-nping tiuougir all tirese hoops ' t-ru'r
;orrrP.,J througir thetri sire did '
Her croft is beautiful an,J stili so well *rai*taine'J 'uhe ou'r b-tiiidirrg which
s'e co*ver*red trto a iuxur-,v studio it att.actetJ l'ore irrteres'ting peopie
ihan just ti,- urout ianriiy iroli,iayl *uk.., +li:,, ivri'uei:s an,i loneli soul's
looking ior trea-uty irr t#".. qldr-oi course f,ild rr atcher's she -was iir arr
i,Jeai spot witir a goo,J pair of binoculars -uo,i hei iittie irili she could see
the migr-ating Vvtales '
Rebecca iea,rt the mc,orjs an,j'rhe w-eather chatrges artrj e\ eil iila'ie
fi'ien,Js, rniles aw-ay of course it sadden her io think the lLeii Coiite IS itt
ihe crofting ,Jor;,rrrity are ali ove.65 weaitfuy retire to irre peace arrd
qui-re arid spen,J ihe wirrters irr w-ar-rner clinraies, atrother tiiirg iiLa:
*d,r"r. hei is the rise in Alcohoiisil it is a huge problern irr the crc'ltLrrg
cointnutrity
Rebecca ,jeatli rr,as repofted ir-r'r.he locai llewspapers the L,ltrdorr croft
lIa u1y url'c s a_B--s.u9:.
Rebecca iiever tii.ed of watcliiiig botli tiie Set tiiig air,i tiie i'isiiig or"ilie
suii eveil after aii ihese Jvears uf iiviiig in her littie Croft in tire iiii,i,iic of
Know-wlere , SLre was an oid iady now and tende,i to relive heriifb
sitting watching the Suii Sipping irer= \'vhiskey if it was evetring time.
Liie at'rlie beggirg wasn't eas) or-r this croft she was a Lontiorrer wiih a
iit'r.le money it took a long tiine for'her to'oecotne excepted in to tiris hard
brutai way of iife, to go back'ro London woul'i have l:een a faial faiier'
fbr Rebecca eveii itio\ iltg io a Towtt in Scotlan,J, wlricir slie had
corrsi,Jered at orre poini in her time here -would also ltavc been a faiier in
her eyes , Rebecca rtevel' faiieti at anytliing slie sct ltei' iitiiid too .
Aftei her iiusbarrd irad ,iie,i in a ,irurtketr Accideut aiong witir flcur of iris
Ri;gby ivfates Ret-recca took a long irar=d iook ai iift irerself and her job
ihe ilrree other widows had remarrie,j ovet'the yeal's exchanging orre ricli
irusband ior a richer one , because her husbands deatir couirJ have beert
avoide,i iithey all w=eren't so ,irunk it took her a loiig tiine to con-re io
tenns noi only her grief but this catastropire iiie charrging event '
Charles arli Rebecca were one of 'uhese dreanr couples aird wet'e a soiid
togetlier-on the sarne wave iength an,i woul,i have beeii the sort of couple
iii tlieir oid age as soul niates .
The iuxurl flat became soulless and i'r was quickiy ren'red out atl,i herjoi:
ai a sinall finance cotrlpaily slnall by 'r.;,3ay's stanriarris becaure fileaii
less so after movirrg oui in to ihe coutriiy sire left lier jo'o, fbr' ihe nex'i
fb-w non'rhs slie ina,ie soil1e quiie serious iinprovemenis to the coitage
she ira,J bougirt when corrrpieted sire iei it out aud wetrt traveliing not
abroa,i btii tire irigir larrds an,i lowlatiris of Scotiand an,i iiris is wtrere slie
siumble,i across tiris iittie croft . i'r wasn'i love at fir"st sigirt she triade
enquires and rented a rooni a few iriiles away w-ltere she walke,i to it nros'r
l^_-_ uaJvs
Clofting is a srnall scale Sustainabie agricuiiure some oithe crofter kepi
Goais or sheep or cows but Rebecca di,iii'i watrt to keep atlitnals she
warrte$ to Carden on a small scale herbs planis that would grow in'uiris
Hais[ etivirorriiieiii and clo Toui'isnr iioi on a lai'ge scale, the cr:oft was in
e1
tl.re remoie nor*rlr westerly islar.rd of Sco.ularr.j two 'u*, "*',l'
,-,.0
before yor,i evell irrrJ ir1. place how Rebecca s-rut-nLr1ed upon tiris she
doest reai reaily;.;*] p..r*pr I i;rt *"t the road less tt'aveile'. sire says
AcrossthewhoieofScotiancithereareiTthousaniiscroftsmost
abandoned ihese rlay sorne ,tot *o'ittcr at ail o'uhels jtrst have'oeen
bougirt by rich tu"io*"tr and iurtre'J in to holiday reutals'
CroftinglrasasetofRulesan.Jreguiatiotrlthat,JatebacktotiieiS
hundre,is an'J you have 'r'o be app'"outd Rel:ecca trow day dreairring
re1-reillbers'rhe nightrrrare oijur-nping tiuougir all tirese hoops ' t-ru'r
;orrrP.,J througir thetri sire did '
Her croft is beautiful an,J stili so well *rai*taine'J 'uhe ou'r b-tiiidirrg which
s'e co*ver*red trto a iuxur-,v studio it att.actetJ l'ore irrteres'ting peopie
ihan just ti,- urout ianriiy iroli,iayl *uk.., +li:,, ivri'uei:s an,i loneli soul's
looking ior trea-uty irr t#".. qldr-oi course f,ild rr atcher's she -was iir arr
i,Jeai spot witir a goo,J pair of binoculars -uo,i hei iittie irili she could see
the migr-ating Vvtales '
Rebecca iea,rt the mc,orjs an,j'rhe w-eather chatrges artrj e\ eil iila'ie
fi'ien,Js, rniles aw-ay of course it sadden her io think the lLeii Coiite IS itt
ihe crofting ,Jor;,rrrity are ali ove.65 weaitfuy retire to irre peace arrd
qui-re arid spen,J ihe wirrters irr w-ar-rner clinraies, atrother tiiirg iiLa:
*d,r"r. hei is the rise in Alcohoiisil it is a huge problern irr the crc'ltLrrg
cointnutrity
Rebecca ,jeatli rr,as repofted ir-r'r.he locai llewspapers the L,ltrdorr croft
lIa u1y url'c s a_B--s.u9:.
| ____________________________________________________________ |
| ||||||
Tuesday, 20 February 2018
A Fresh Start 19th February 2018
Jackie's contribution:
It has always been my nightmare to be shut up in a closed space and not be able to get out. The doors of my house are always open and I crave the open air. Prisons for some unknown reason have always been a terror of mine. Perhaps listening to Eve’s real life stories made this come to the surface or perhaps in another life (if you believe in this sort of thing) I was thrown into prison and left. Who knows. This recite is entirely fictional by the way.
When the door of the cell clanged shut and the rattle of keys faded to the sound of bolts slotting into their notches the noise resounded and bounced off the stained grey walls of the prison cubicle and into my brain.
Panic bile rose to my throat and I shivered feeling chilled as I would those weeks, months and years afterwards to come. Winter, summer, spring I was continually cold a trembling cold that penetrated its fingers into my very bones and numbed my soul.
Life in the prison was routine. Up at 6, line up, breakfast of soggy bread and weak coffee, work an 8 hour day, five days a week in the penitentiary’s industrial laundry processing linen with 50 other prisoners.
The roughness of the obligatory orange jumpsuit rubbed my skin raw in tender places; I had permanent excema and the white cotton underwear provided no thought for femininity. Womanly shapes disappeared without underwires in bras, forbidden for security purposes and delicate female shapes became straight up and down mummy likenesses. My hair was cut short, no make up and femaleness was wiped out. Our identity distressed and torn like an animal just after a hunt. The wretchedness of it all overwhelmed and sunk me into dark despair.
In the workshop the noise was unbearable and the steam heat clogged up the air, became oppressive as I ironed sheets and towels day in and day out. The grinding routine, squabbling, jealously, disputes between inmates. And I was in for life.
True, I had tried to rob a bank and yes, unfortunately my finger had hit the trigger on the gun by mistake and wasn’t it unlucky that the lady in the red coat was in the way when I fired. Jailed for life and it wasn’t my fault. No, not really my fault just what you would call a poor life decision. At the last minute the boyfriend had pushed a gun into my hands just before we entered the bank - thinking it was a dummy gun so I had used it as a tactic to distract the bank teller; then sadly realised it wasn’t made of plastic as I watched the blood patch expanding quickly on the woman’s chest wound. My then fiancé escaped hearing the gunshot and was now probably enjoying life with a family and friends doing the things that I was depraved of.
One night the roommate was already on her bunk snoring so loud that a train wouldn’t wake her. Locked in at 8 pm and a whole night before me. One electric light hanging by a thread in the centre of the cell slightly swinging in the draft from the high window sent monster like shapes on the walls. I was lonely. Crushingly lonely, sitting in a big grey box locked up with myself and all the mistakes and shitty choices and nothing to distract me from the fact that I put myself there.
Those evenings lying on my back in the lumpy bed it started: the thinking, dreaming, planning and wishing went round and round in my head preventing sleep but then I dreamt of when I would get out … it started with the same thoughts every night - a walk in a forest - stroking my dog - kissing my child and dressing up in real clothes. Putting on perfume, make up and silky panties. Wearing a skirt, taking a shower in hot hot water with strawberry soap and washing, scrubbing forever to eliminate that acrid smell of prison off my skin. I imagined all these things - smelt the relief of freedom and it helped me to survive just another day.
In my dreams after discharge, I would open a café on a corner street - decorate it with green plants and yellow walls. Let the sunshine in and greet my customers with a smile every day … “A fresh start” was all I asked for.
Annemarie contribution:
When the door of the cell clanged shut and the rattle of keys faded to the sound of bolts slotting into their notches the noise resounded and bounced off the stained grey walls of the prison cubicle and into my brain.
Panic bile rose to my throat and I shivered feeling chilled as I would those weeks, months and years afterwards to come. Winter, summer, spring I was continually cold a trembling cold that penetrated its fingers into my very bones and numbed my soul.
Life in the prison was routine. Up at 6, line up, breakfast of soggy bread and weak coffee, work an 8 hour day, five days a week in the penitentiary’s industrial laundry processing linen with 50 other prisoners.
The roughness of the obligatory orange jumpsuit rubbed my skin raw in tender places; I had permanent excema and the white cotton underwear provided no thought for femininity. Womanly shapes disappeared without underwires in bras, forbidden for security purposes and delicate female shapes became straight up and down mummy likenesses. My hair was cut short, no make up and femaleness was wiped out. Our identity distressed and torn like an animal just after a hunt. The wretchedness of it all overwhelmed and sunk me into dark despair.
In the workshop the noise was unbearable and the steam heat clogged up the air, became oppressive as I ironed sheets and towels day in and day out. The grinding routine, squabbling, jealously, disputes between inmates. And I was in for life.
True, I had tried to rob a bank and yes, unfortunately my finger had hit the trigger on the gun by mistake and wasn’t it unlucky that the lady in the red coat was in the way when I fired. Jailed for life and it wasn’t my fault. No, not really my fault just what you would call a poor life decision. At the last minute the boyfriend had pushed a gun into my hands just before we entered the bank - thinking it was a dummy gun so I had used it as a tactic to distract the bank teller; then sadly realised it wasn’t made of plastic as I watched the blood patch expanding quickly on the woman’s chest wound. My then fiancé escaped hearing the gunshot and was now probably enjoying life with a family and friends doing the things that I was depraved of.
One night the roommate was already on her bunk snoring so loud that a train wouldn’t wake her. Locked in at 8 pm and a whole night before me. One electric light hanging by a thread in the centre of the cell slightly swinging in the draft from the high window sent monster like shapes on the walls. I was lonely. Crushingly lonely, sitting in a big grey box locked up with myself and all the mistakes and shitty choices and nothing to distract me from the fact that I put myself there.
Those evenings lying on my back in the lumpy bed it started: the thinking, dreaming, planning and wishing went round and round in my head preventing sleep but then I dreamt of when I would get out … it started with the same thoughts every night - a walk in a forest - stroking my dog - kissing my child and dressing up in real clothes. Putting on perfume, make up and silky panties. Wearing a skirt, taking a shower in hot hot water with strawberry soap and washing, scrubbing forever to eliminate that acrid smell of prison off my skin. I imagined all these things - smelt the relief of freedom and it helped me to survive just another day.
In my dreams after discharge, I would open a café on a corner street - decorate it with green plants and yellow walls. Let the sunshine in and greet my customers with a smile every day … “A fresh start” was all I asked for.
Annemarie contribution:
A
Fresh Start
All along the canal the villagers were out
for a stroll after the church service. The blue sky, the three windmills and several barges were reflected in the
still dark waters. Today was the one day
there was no work for many villagers; it was a day of prayer and leisure with
only the majestic sails of the windmills working slowly, groaning in the gentle
breeze.
Jacob walked along the canal path
considering his future. Three years ago his father, a butcher, had decided it
was time for young Jacob, the eldest of three sons to start work, also as a
butcher. Jacob, quiet and intelligent,
had no desire to spend his life slaughtering and selling bloody lumps of animal
flesh. His sole wish had been to continue his schooling and eventually become a
teacher. After a fearful row he was put out of the family home with just a
small suitcase of clothes and his few possessions. It was not so easy In 1916 to
find other work in his home village. He was, however, fortunate enough to find
lodgings with his best friend's family in Edam and so continue at school. He
repaid their kindness by working for them in his free time but now he had
finished his schooling and on this Sunday he was sitting on the sluice gate pondering his future.
From the direction of the town centre two
young women walked along the towpath lifting their long, loose straight skirts to avoid puddles. They were both
wearing their Sunday best having been to St. Nicholas church in the morning.
Neelie loved her life in Edam still living at home the eldest of three sisters and two brothers. She had
been forced to leave school at the age of twelve although she had pleaded with
her father to continue with her education.
" Now, child, if someone comes into
the bakery and buys 3 loaves worth 1 guilder 9 cents how much change will you
give them from a 5 guilder note? " he had asked all those years ago.
" Oh, Papa, that's easy - 3 guilders
91 cents," Neelie had replied immediately.
"Well then, child you have no further
need of school; you can help old Oma Box in the house and in the afternoons you can work in the bakery
with your brothers."
And
so she had until she found work in the pharmacy shop where her friend also worked.
Sunday meant a bit of freedom, promenading
along the canal in their best clothes, not in the skirts and coloured aprons
and lace caps still worn by many of the older women of Edam and Volendam.
The two young women neared the young man,
sitting pensively by the lock and Neeltje giggled to her friend,
"What a handsome chap! Who do you
think he is looking so lost in thought. Hey, watch me!"
and she carefully let go of her lace
handkerchief which fluttered gently, landing in front of Jacob and the two girls continued
on their way. Jacob couldn't fail to see
it; he picked it up and followed after the giggling girls.
"I believe one of you has lost her
handkerchief, " he said offering it
to the girls.
"Oh, how kind and it’s my prettiest
one. You must let us treat you to a coffee and tell us why you looked so sad
and lonely sitting on the sluice gate," laughed Neelie.
Jacob and Neelie, both 18 years old, seemed
to understand one another from the start and they continued to meet every
Sunday after church. After a while with her father's approval they became
engaged. Jacob divulged his dream of becoming a teacher but how unlikely it was
as he had no money and it would take several years.
"Well, you listen to me, "
replied Neelie, "I live at home, I help a lot at home and I work in the
pharmacy so I have been able to save money. We get on very well and I would
really like to help you with your dream. I am going to give you the money and
whatever else I earn, to help you fulfil your dream and I won't take 'no' for
an answer. In return you can help me improve my reading."
It was another five years before Jacob
qualified and after a six year engagement they married in the old church of St
Nicolas in the middle of old Edam. A few years later, after obtaining his
headmaster's certificate in Amsterdam they
moved to a village along the Zuiderzee where the experimental reclamation of
the inland sea was being constructed . It was here, and now with a toddler and
young baby, that Jacob contracted an illness which left him unable to speak.
His young wife was terrified he would lose his job - after all what good is a
teacher who can't speak and how would he then support his family? Every day
they waited with trepidation expecting the authorities to stand him down
until one day Neelie saw an
advertisement in the newspaper:
'Wanted
- teachers willing to take the opportunity of a lifetime. Experience a very
different life and teach in our colonial
outposts in Indonesia.'
"Jacob, Jacob , look at this. It may be just the
answer. We could make a fresh start somewhere warm and it might cure whatever
is wrong with you. Nobody here seems to
know what to do so it cannot be worse. And what fun to try something
different!"
Neelie was full of enthusiasm and hope
although it took a little more persuasion for her gentle, quiet husband but in
1930, having said tearful goodbyes to her beloved sisters and brothers, Neelie,
Jacob and their young family embarked on board 'Koningen der Nederlanden,’ on
sea voyage halfway round the world, where Jacob took up his post as headmaster
of a school on a Moluccan island. Neelie and their now three children never tired of the gorgeous beaches,
so-called sea-gardens or the blue mountains beyond the bay. Later in Temangoeng, 'high in the Javanese
mountains the children grew up hearing their mother sing from pure happiness,
relishing the splendour of nature, the six high mountains surrounding the
valley, the ravines, the perpetually smoking volcano Morapi.'* Her husband's voice was fine again and their
life was idyllic.
One day when Jacob was at home alone a
salesman dressed in his dark European suit and just recently off the ship from
Amsterdam, called to enquire the way to the traders in the town. He was hot and
tired, his face sunburned and sweating from the unaccustomed sun and he was
carrying a small leather case, gripping it tightly.
" Come in and sit down. You look
exhausted and I am about to have lunch. How much better to enjoy it in the
company of a stranger. Please join me, " invited Jacob.
After their meal and after hearing details
of the voyage Jacob said to the man,
" Well, I have heard about your
voyage, but you haven't told me what is in the case, what you are hoping to
trade."
The trader
opened up his case to reveal an effervescence of sparkling from rows of
diamonds.
" Ja, it is my first trip out east so I
am finding my way, " and he was about close the case when Jacob laid a
hand on the lid.
" Stop, sir. That big diamond, the one
with the yellow light, nestling by itself in the corner - how much would a
diamond as big as that cost? I would like to buy it."
"Well, it is the finest I have but you
have been so hospitable and treated me so civilly I can do a very good price.
You will, after all, be my first customer."
When Neelie arrived home with the children
she found in the middle of the table a beautiful, small leather box and propped up
against it a note inscribed:
'For all those years you waited and helped
me get my teaching degree. Thank you.’
Opening the box she blinked at the beautiful diamond
winking back at her.
PS. That same diamond was buried in broad
daylight, alongside other precious objects, in front of the Japanese guards
during the family's wartime imprisonment and retrieved in Autumn 1945 by my 12
yr old uncle with the help and protection of a 3 British soldiers.
This a story for my daughter, Suzi who will
be the next owner of the diamond and more important of a wonderful love story.
+ Quoted from my Uncle Just , Neelie’s
eldest son.
Thursday, 1 February 2018
A poem for all of us who love doing household chores
Dust If You Must
by Rose Milligan
Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between
want and need?
Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter
of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.
Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it's not kind.
And
when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.
Thursday, 18 January 2018
Write a story with these words : Forest money corrupt painting stonemason
Angela's contribution:
He could see a couple were missing and assumed he'd unusually left them on site yesterday. Then as he went to climb in the cab he heard the sound of metal on stone - unmistakable to his practised ear. It was coming from somewhere in the forest, not too far away. Curiously he walked quietly between the trees and saw the hunched figure of a young, very scruffily dressed boy, engrossed in his work, chipping at a piece of stone.
'Hey', he said and the boy jumped, springing up and clutching the tools to him.
'What do you think you're doing and with my tools you young thief'!
'Please guv, I didn't mean no 'arm I was jess practisin. Saw you doin' it last week when you was round our 'ouse workin.'
'Ah yes, I remember, you were watching, till your dad boxed your ears and sent you packing.'
I've left 'im and I ain't never goin' back. He's always 'itting me.
Since me mum died it's been 'ell living with 'im.
I wanna learn what you do and maybe one day I can make stuff like you make, walls 'n that.
He looked at the boy, more closely now. He was thin with ginger hair and freckles. He had blue eyes, and his hands, though dirty, were well formed, almost artistic looking.
'Look boy, you have to be an apprentice and it takes years to get really skilled.'
'I don't care 'ow long it takes, an' you can teach me, don't need to go to no 'prentice place.'
He looked at the boy and felt a flood of sympathy, remembering his own parents and how they'd supported him when he was learning the trade, full of misgivings and fear.
He found himself saying,
'All right lad, you can stay here for a bit and I'll show you basics but you've got to have a heart for this job you know, a feeling for the stone, it isn't just a question of bashing it with a mallet.
The boy's face lit up and his whole frame seemed visibly to relax and soften.
'Ah fanks guv. I won't let yer down, you'll see!'
************
The cottage in the forest looked little changed in three years.
Still unkempt and with the old banger parked randomly to one side.
There was just one noticeable difference though. Sounds of talking and the odd chuckle emanated from the open doorway.
Then a young adolescent strode out can in hand and crouched down at the river's edge. He sluiced water on his face before filling the can and disappearing back inside.
The man appeared dressed ready for work and called to the lad.
'It'll be a late one today, we're out at Smith's farm, he wants the job done by nightfall'
'Ok guv', good job it stays light till gone nine in'nit'
The man smiled to himself and a feeling of deep satisfaction filled his being.
It had been worth taking a chance on the boy.
Even though it had meant selling his painting to fund the apprenticeship.
It turned out his inheritance had been worth several thousand pounds. When the first dealer he had seen, offered him peanuts he got a second opinion, rightly suspecting the first one to be corrupt.
As he watched the boy gather his own tools, carefully wrapping them in the cloth, he knew that his parents would have been more than happy to know they had inadvertently changed a life, enabling the boy to realise his innate creativity and for this precious skill to be handed down to the next generation.
The fact that he had acquired an apprentice, the best you could wish for, was just a bonus and one he valued more than he liked to admit.
'
Jackie's contribution:
"Slow Tom" had been condemned to prison several times. His father, the corrupt Sheriff of the town of Big Tree in Michigan saw to it that each time his beloved son was condemned he bailed him out or just set him free with no judgement. There were regular reports of aggressions, car theft and even rape reported to the Sheriff but each time he bailed his precious son out of prison - patted him on the back and said “don’t do that again son”. The town was well run, clean and the population wanted for nothing as the narcissistic Sheriff had money and didn’t hesitate to contribute personally to the welfare of the population with free school meals, bus trips for the elderly and a Christmas party with presents for the 5000 population in the town. In return the inhabitants turned their back on the Sheriffs son’s misdoings, slightly afraid, that if they complained the flow of gifts and good things for their families would come to a halt.
Slow Tom was a big lad of 6 foot. His nickname born out of a mental deficiency at birth, his hairy chest tufted out of his shirt and collar - he resembled a grisilly a big brown bear ready to swipe out to anyone that might be in his way and prevented him doing what he wanted. His job as forestier kept him out of trouble - most days.
But one man in particular was particularly careful to step out of Slow Tom’s way. Jamie and Slow Tom had been friends of a sort in school and when Slow Tom started to sell drugs when he was only 12 Jamie found him clients through his parents friends and they started a business together. By the age of 14 Slow Tom was dealing with dangerous people from other towns and they were starting to come into Big Tree and causing trouble. Jamie wanted “out” and Slow Tom made him promise that if he let him out of the deals Jamie would forget their relationship had ever existed, never cross him, talk about him or condemn him.
Unfortunately for Jamie his parents found out about their trafficking and dealings and went to see Slow Tom’s parents. Slow Tom was sent away to a reform school and never forgave Jamie thinking he had been the telltale. He vowed to do him or his family harm one day .. Jamie lived in apprehension but as the years went by his marriage and children born he forgot about Slow Tom who eventually came home to Big Tree and set up house just next to Jamie’s farm. Slow Tom became a renown stonemason and when Jamie asked him to build a small house for his eldest daughter thinking that this was a way of healing their relationship Slow Tom accepted with verve. A few weeks into building the stone house, Jamie’s eldest daughter disappeared. Out for a walk with their dog she just never came back and despite search party’s calling out for her night and day the dog and herself were never found. Devastated, Jamie then sent his second youngest son to the city to see if his daughter had run away to live there but he never returned and Jamie plunged into despair shutting himself into his room, his only activity was painting a portrait of his lost daughter and son. On one Christmas morning when the family were usually full of joy the decorations up and the house smelling of turkey lunch Jamie roused himself to be with his family . Overnight there had been a big storm and he went outside to check on any damage done. The stone house, half built by Slow Tom had suffered considerable destruction. Upon getting closer to the crumbling walls - Jamie gasped at what he saw, fell to his knees and began howling and wailing; for there, protruding from the rubble he could see his daughters shoe that she had worn the morning of her disappearance - a dog collar embedded in the grass lay next to it…. Slow Tom watched from his farmhouse window a malicious triumph gleaming in his eyes.
Paula's limerick:
There once was a stonemason’s sad wife
Who made money by painting her strife.
In the forest one day,
A young knight came her way,
And said, “Paint me, and I’ll corrupt you for life!”
Tuesday, 5 December 2017
"Over the moon"
______________________________________________________________ Jackie It was in the middle of the night when my family and myself finally managed to attempt to make the crossing. The water was calm when we started out but the boat was for 6 people and we were 25 and didn’t know any of the other refugees. I was only ten years old but I realised from the tension in my fathers face that this was a running for your life situation. I clung to my mother and the small bundle she clutched that was my new baby sister. I knew the boat was made of wood as I could dig my fingernails into the side of the railings when there was a particularly aggressive wave. We huddled together as best we could and looked up at the sky, the moon gave little comfort playing hide and seek with us in the clouds as we prayed silently for a safe journey. When the storm started up the boat began to rock gently back and forth with the waves -, Chug chug and splutter we could all hear that the engine of the boat was having problems. - a few sparks flew into the sea like stars in the sky of back home. We had only been going for 30 minutes or so. Then there was silence, a silence only broken by the wash of the waves against our fragile wooden vessel . Then someone managed to start the engine and It was pleasant enough , I felt that the journey would be bearable; but then the wind gathered strength in minutes - it became like a combination of a washing machine and eternal roller coaster. The froth was spraying all around and constant water was coming over the top of the boat making it very difficult to see. The ship was going up and down 30+ meters constantly. We were all thrown against each other as the ups and downs were accompanied by many jerks, as waves on the swells pushed the boat around. UP and down up and down…… This reminded me of home - of my playmates; when my cousin and I had played with the old fallen oak tree using it as a see-saw, balancing on the stone in old Mary’s garden. I thought of my cousin with envy now, she was probably sitting outside her hut this very moment - drawing in the street dirt or playing with the pigs. It was almost impossible to get real sleep; those who called themselves “crew” fell into a halfway state of being part awake and part comatose. Fear gripped me - I felt scared, so scared that I’m ashamed to say my bowels gave out on me several times. I wanted the voyage to be over - to arrive and put my feet on firm earth, I wanted the world to stop churning; in the end I felt drained of all emotion except for the anticipation of arrival in a new country. I heard someone say they had checked our location on the GPS on their phone and we were exactly between Turkey and Greece. White foam sprayed and flew everywhere and looked like the soapsuds that Granny used to wash the dishes with at home. Great gusts of wind gathered the sea and slapped us like wet sheets on the washing line. By this time we were going up and down several meters constantly and my stomach was protesting - I felt dizzy with nausea and watched as my parents hung on to themselves and their possessions - mother clutching her newborn trying to feed her in the bouncing boat, father straining to see in the blackness of the night. Then the big one. The wave of all waves - it was as high as mountain Glory near our village back home - water swirled down onto our small vessel - I can hear the cries to this day of horror and disbelief as it engulfed us entirely drowning our ability to hold on - pounded away human life and expectations - took away tiny possessions wrapped in paper or thin blankets - scattered family’s hopes and dreams. Years later, I sit in my comfortable room - I have a job, a wife and my own child of 10 years old. I have never been back to my country as the pain of loosing my family that devastating night to the fury of the sea is too much to bear. The moon, only witness to my fate has my family imprinted on its face and I take comfort that one day I shall soar into the sky and over that moon to join them. _____________________________________________________________________________ I was on my honeymoon And it was the monsoon Clothes strewn and me in a swoon I didn’t see you at first ‘cause It was the afternoon Then like a balloon Shining on the lagoon Because, You see It’t was the month of June You shone so bright A reflection on my teaspoon And I looked up to my My new groom Who then used his spittoon And I raised my head And wished I was Over that moon
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We were walking the dogs on top of our world - Jean Marie forever fearful of an empty fridge suggested a salad for dinner - I gently rem...
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“Not Letting go” Dear Mr Matchmaker, I am writing to complain about the number of matches in the box I bought today. I had run...
