Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts

Tuesday, 22 November 2016

An item of luxury

'Fresh Air and Poverty' quilt exhibited at National Trust's Lyme Park, Cheshire.

‏Grandparents
‏Went to Scarborough, coach trip
‏One day of a trip in
‏100 years of charabancs
‏Granddaddy dug the first grave on Buxton Road
‏A pound a week
‏Made his wage up by tending graves
1897
‏Youngest in a big family
‏My grandmother walking a basket round Buxton
‏Jam in, eggs in, cheese, butter and walked it
‏A luxury would be a new hat
‏(Hide it from the husband)

‏Farmed Moorside
‏It's now a school for naughty boys
‏The old ones took pride in hats
‏To church on Sunday
‏No hay on Sunday
‏Everyone in black
‏To funerals, new clothes for anniversaries
‏Easter bonnets

‏My mother's desire was a dining suite that matched
‏That was the desire: what the rich had
‏Cut glass and china
‏Every time she raised nearly enough money
‏They needed a new cow
‏And she kept being put off.

‏My grandad worked on the railways
‏Their holiday was a day on the trains
‏Walking to church on Sunday, the preacher said:
‏"I'm just drowning the dog
‏and then I'll be there."
‏A tin of pears on Sunday afternoon
‏Or shirt buttons that matched.
‏Grandfather died when I was 3
‏I had a habit of biting and he cured me
‏By offering me the poker.

‏Staffordshire pot dogs
‏A big table, Grandfather at the head in his
‏White scarf. Had pudding first to fill you
‏Then you didn't want as much meat.
‏Bread and butter trifle make it
‏Go further
‏A quiet life at Hollingsclough
‏Idyllic, three sisters rain or shine
‏Milking the cows in the field.

‏First war, father fought. Went when he was 18
‏Got gassed, finger frozen off
‏"You've know idea what muck is. You don't know
‏Hunger. When the horses died you'd cut a steak
‏And love it." When he got home
‏Mother wouldn't let him in cos of the lice
‏Stood there like a skeleton in his combies.
‏Didn't eat a lot in those days
‏His horse was in foal so it wasn't taken to the war
‏He delivered the coal cos no one else had a horse.

‏Mum and dad, their luxury was each other
‏Hardworking people all their life
‏Quarry, breaking stone 17 years
‏A lot of house moving, we were like
‏Sioux Indians
‏Cockroaches had a free run
‏Mum liked the flitting
‏Me, I spent 40 years farming and 20 driving trucks
‏That was my earthly career
‏My bed to lie in.

‏My mother made many beds
‏A woman before her time
‏Living over the brush, all the old ladies said
‏"They had a Chance Child."
‏Didn't want any charity from any
‏The Teapot Society
‏Kept money in it for the doctor
‏Made a wonderful cup of tea but it was
‏A blithering awful looking thing.

‏For us, the luxury was electric in 1947
‏(A job for children, filling the oil lamps
‏Polishing the glass)
‏And mains water
‏Turn the cattle out for the drinking
‏9 Bob a week and your keep
‏was the first wage I ever drew and my
‏Dad stood on a box in the hiring fair
‏Lived above the hayloft for a year
‏We weren't putting up with it, it's just what was.
‏Luxuries: flush toilet, indoor
‏(Dry Petty outside with white roses round the door
‏Two seats a biggun and a little)

‏Some of the desires were
‏Improving utility, not a diamond ring.
‏Water bowls so you didn't have to turn the cows out
‏To the meres. Toilet paper.

‏I would see strife as the struggle
‏To feed your children
‏My mother and father loved each other
‏(Once a week had a shave
‏The wife will suffer tonight)
‏Many children conceived on a
‏Sunday School afternoon
‏Dads sister died during childbirth
‏Haemorrhage
‏The doctor said, "You didn't pay
‏Last time so I'm not coming."
‏Strife is associated with our relationship
‏With others. War.
‏A bag of sugar, 200 weight, butter, cheese
‏Grow your own veg
‏Porridge, home-cured bacon, bottled fruit
‏Milk as a nightcap, bread and milk pobs.
‏Went to bed on that, sleep for a week
‏A luxury to lie there and see a blaze.

‏Borrow an Austin 12 for the wedding
‏A lot of injustice in the terms of men and women
‏Me mucking out by hand
‏Me milking 7 days a week
‏And my brothers got the farm.
‏Take it on the chin
‏I shan't know what to do with me halo.

‏There's an Act of Parliament called
‏In Place of Strife
‏War the solution to how we overcome difference
‏Sign to say you won't go on strike
‏In any circumstance
‏Shopping during the war, everything was weighed
‏The best of people and
‏The worst of people.
‏You drunken buggers!
‏Best darts team in Tideswell
‏When they were sober.

‏My grandchildren for a luxury
‏Would have a heated tractor cab with a radio
‏They've never picked up a shovel and brush to
‏Clean up after the cows
‏Transponders on their legs, they take
‏Regular holidays, luxury hotels
‏Freedom
‏Is an important word to them
‏A few part-time jobs, two cars and a pint
‏When they can
‏50 years with one employer, all that's gone.

‏The world is big to them
‏Granddaughter works in NYC
‏Son holiday in Las Vegas hotel
‏They don't know hardship as I knew it
‏Farm with no money and a Morris Minor
‏The Teapot Society funded me
‏And one grand-daughter went to Thailand
‏Halfway round the world to get married
‏Why didn't she just do it at Cressbrook?
‏A good soaking on Saturday
‏A few shillings in your pocket and enjoy what you do
‏That's worth a lot.

‏Group poem
‏Farming Life Centre
Blackwell, Derbyshire

For more about the Stitching the Wars project please visit http://arthur-and-martha.blogspot.co.ukhttp://arthur-and-martha.blogspot.co.uk/





Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Conch


many a time tea
on blackpool beach
day trips with me dad all the time
when he had time
blowing her nose
an excuse me lost at sea

in winter gardens - indoor gardens
that’s yours my love that music
fox trot waltz
a winter garden
fresh warm
stay the day

conch
it’s just the blood in your head
you can hear it rush
to shut

it’s rough
cough it up
an excuse me
scared the life out of me change the scene
sea rough
a garden a-flower
a tower
a walk many a time
asleep
me

shells


May Cocker, Rosamund Blackham and Mary Arrandale
Stepping Hill Hospital
2009

Thursday, 9 July 2009

look round



look round and
see the dust
the atmosphere -
its
there

anon 2009
Cherry Tree Hospital

Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Everyone has the right to be remembered


you have
more freedom when
you are away
but

the nurses put a limit

the atmosphere every year in
Wales Rhyll Llandudno or the Algarve
the pleasure to stop and go
a wideopen space, a beachfront
the smell is held
contained by things that are a pleasure
to eat doughnuts are sweet
pleasure constantly

cant look after myself proper

constantly seabirds on the headland
suspect or suggest the memory of places
a tram or a train from base to top
do and say what you want
a change of scenery

you’ve got to have someone to help
control


tremors
two shakes of a lambs tail to get to Llandudno
to get away to get home
you look around and see dust
look back and think I was doing such a thing
donkeys years in holiday camps
in tents men on one side women the other
the bane of my wife’s desire
the cheese was very

hard pleasure of these idle days


conversation poem
cherry tree hospital 2009