Bradwell my family name and I come from
Bradwell village, from my mothers womb, 1923
I'm a bit ancient
It's my home, my doorstep free
Dad had the butchers and grocers shop
Remember him taking food surreptitiously
To people who couldn't afford
They'd tell me secretly
Strong opinions in the village: chapel or church?
He'd say I'm going to chapel this week,
And church the next, had his own views
Constricted he'd never be.
He never lifted a hand to us, he'd just speak
Quietly persuasive, deeply meek.
|DCCC003815 Image courtesy of www.picturethepast.org.uk|
From the arthur+martha project Stitching the Wars. A Two year collaboration with older people in Derbyshire, producing two embroidered quilts, a book, interviews and a series of poems.