Masked, heat and perspiration mix,
as metal twisted and fired is
formed and left, enviously, to
cool. At the end of a long night
and in the face of the bitter
winter wind and mist, we bask
in our frostbitten faces. Laughter
fills the air as the noise of the works
drifts away. Suddenly, swishing like the sound
of a traction engine at work, eruptions of
metal and flames, bring back old
memories of time served in steaming furnaces,
Blackened faces, stained, torn overalls, bleeding
hands, but no pay packet for this short shift.
Friday, 10 April 2020
Escape
She moved through the narrow opening, her eyes adjusting to the light.
No longer dark, but shades of red, pink and white. It'd been an adventure.
Working through tight, cave-like spaces, had been difficult, but she'd succeeded.
The thumping noises, banging furiously every other second, that had lasted for what seemed months, were subsiding.
Fresh air filled her lungs and with one last effort she was out "Congratulations Mrs Brown, its a baby girl"
No longer dark, but shades of red, pink and white. It'd been an adventure.
Working through tight, cave-like spaces, had been difficult, but she'd succeeded.
The thumping noises, banging furiously every other second, that had lasted for what seemed months, were subsiding.
Fresh air filled her lungs and with one last effort she was out "Congratulations Mrs Brown, its a baby girl"
Growing Up
I grew up on a council estate, not just any housing estate, but THE best one possible.
Everyone knew each other, we were poor, but so were they. If we borrowed a cup of sugar,they borrowed egg, beans, chips, bread, butter and the cutlery to serve it on.
As kids, we stayed around "our own end", which to be fair, was pretty much the best part with shops, park, playing fields and our very own adventure playground "The Valley".
It sounds exotic, but it was only an overgrown beck, with trees on the far side that was crossed by a large black sewage pipe. You had to balance, precariously, on it, five feet above the water to get across, woe betide the humiliation of falling into the smelly, stagnant water below, or the clip round the ear you'd get when you got home, because your clothes were filthy and no one had a washing machine, we used the launderette close by, and only when there was a full weeks worth.
I still remember that fateful day, when Rob tried to get across the pipe. We were going across to cut down trees for bonfire night. He slipped halfway over, his legs going either side of the pipe and found that testicles, although painful, make a very good stopping tool, pardon the pun. It brought tears to his eyes, albeit painful ones, but also to ours when we couldn't stop laughing at his misfortune.
They were strange days. If we were bored, we would stand at the bus stop, and when one arrived, ask if they had any spare ticket rolls to play with. Invariably they would throw one to us, which we would then just unroll and throw into the streets.
Throwing played a huge part in growing up. We couldn't afford fish and chips, so when it was quiet, we'd pop in to the local chip shop and ask for a bag of scraps, little bits of fried batter that had broken off in the fryer. We'd eat a few, then spend half an hour, pelting each other with them. You'd be picking bits out of your hair for months.
Bonfire night was great fun, throughout the estate, groups of kids "in their own end" would acquire the wood for their "bondy" and build the biggest and best one around. Well that was until we snuck around in the middle of the night and set fire to them, making sure that the naughty magazines being used as tinder, had been spared the inferno.
We were cunning, we stored all of our fuel in our sheds, and would build it as late as possible, to avoid those pesky arsonists getting hold of it. We would become commandos on Nov 5th, sneaking into the kitchen and rescuing those large potatoes, and a big sheet of tin foil to make ourselves jacket potatoes in the fire. One of the posher kids washed his potato skin before bringing it but for us mud added a nutty texture to our supper.
We all looked forward to Christmas, especially it there was snow. The usual fun stuff like snowball fights, snowmen and grabbing kids to stuff yellow snow in their face. We'd make our way to the top of the bank near our houses, at the point where buses almost had to stop to turn the corner before descending. Here, we would crouch at the rear and take hold of the bumper for super sledging. We didn't have sledges, but our shoe's were so worn, the smooth surface slid at great pace down the hill anyway.
Christmas then was a different affair to now. We couldn't afford a Christmas tree, so a tree shaped decoration was placed in the windows and the fairy lights were the power cut candles stored in the kitchen drawer. Sadly the net curtains didnt survive their first Christmas after my sister lit the candle on the windowsill
Waking on Christmas morning was a time of excitement.......for other kids, we would have a stocking, well at least a sock filled with apple, singular, orange, singular and a couple of hazelnuts. I remember one year opening my first present and being over the moon to find a Dr Martin boot, THE thing to wear at the time, and then opening my next present to find the other boot. If only they'd been the same size and colour, I'd have been happy.
We were a family of hand me downs, sadly mine were handed down from my elder sister, which didnt help for PE, although the pants did feel rather nice next to my skin.
I'm all grown up now, with kids of my own, who think Facebook is a youth club to meet their friends, rather than interacting with real human beings, they don't know the joys of outrunning security dogs on the hospital building sites and jumping 30 foot from the top of the unfinished houses into a pile of builders sand below, and hobbling off with your broken ankle as a trophy.
Clothes have to be a statement, with only the best good enough, although our jeans were way ahead of their time, with rips all over them, although not deliberately.
Relaxing is sitting in front of the Xbox playing the latest zombie flesh eating super Mario sonic hedgehog game. Which I shall now go and do, as these hand me down knickers are still riding up my arse and chafing.
Everyone knew each other, we were poor, but so were they. If we borrowed a cup of sugar,they borrowed egg, beans, chips, bread, butter and the cutlery to serve it on.
As kids, we stayed around "our own end", which to be fair, was pretty much the best part with shops, park, playing fields and our very own adventure playground "The Valley".
It sounds exotic, but it was only an overgrown beck, with trees on the far side that was crossed by a large black sewage pipe. You had to balance, precariously, on it, five feet above the water to get across, woe betide the humiliation of falling into the smelly, stagnant water below, or the clip round the ear you'd get when you got home, because your clothes were filthy and no one had a washing machine, we used the launderette close by, and only when there was a full weeks worth.
I still remember that fateful day, when Rob tried to get across the pipe. We were going across to cut down trees for bonfire night. He slipped halfway over, his legs going either side of the pipe and found that testicles, although painful, make a very good stopping tool, pardon the pun. It brought tears to his eyes, albeit painful ones, but also to ours when we couldn't stop laughing at his misfortune.
They were strange days. If we were bored, we would stand at the bus stop, and when one arrived, ask if they had any spare ticket rolls to play with. Invariably they would throw one to us, which we would then just unroll and throw into the streets.
Throwing played a huge part in growing up. We couldn't afford fish and chips, so when it was quiet, we'd pop in to the local chip shop and ask for a bag of scraps, little bits of fried batter that had broken off in the fryer. We'd eat a few, then spend half an hour, pelting each other with them. You'd be picking bits out of your hair for months.
Bonfire night was great fun, throughout the estate, groups of kids "in their own end" would acquire the wood for their "bondy" and build the biggest and best one around. Well that was until we snuck around in the middle of the night and set fire to them, making sure that the naughty magazines being used as tinder, had been spared the inferno.
We were cunning, we stored all of our fuel in our sheds, and would build it as late as possible, to avoid those pesky arsonists getting hold of it. We would become commandos on Nov 5th, sneaking into the kitchen and rescuing those large potatoes, and a big sheet of tin foil to make ourselves jacket potatoes in the fire. One of the posher kids washed his potato skin before bringing it but for us mud added a nutty texture to our supper.
We all looked forward to Christmas, especially it there was snow. The usual fun stuff like snowball fights, snowmen and grabbing kids to stuff yellow snow in their face. We'd make our way to the top of the bank near our houses, at the point where buses almost had to stop to turn the corner before descending. Here, we would crouch at the rear and take hold of the bumper for super sledging. We didn't have sledges, but our shoe's were so worn, the smooth surface slid at great pace down the hill anyway.
Christmas then was a different affair to now. We couldn't afford a Christmas tree, so a tree shaped decoration was placed in the windows and the fairy lights were the power cut candles stored in the kitchen drawer. Sadly the net curtains didnt survive their first Christmas after my sister lit the candle on the windowsill
Waking on Christmas morning was a time of excitement.......for other kids, we would have a stocking, well at least a sock filled with apple, singular, orange, singular and a couple of hazelnuts. I remember one year opening my first present and being over the moon to find a Dr Martin boot, THE thing to wear at the time, and then opening my next present to find the other boot. If only they'd been the same size and colour, I'd have been happy.
We were a family of hand me downs, sadly mine were handed down from my elder sister, which didnt help for PE, although the pants did feel rather nice next to my skin.
I'm all grown up now, with kids of my own, who think Facebook is a youth club to meet their friends, rather than interacting with real human beings, they don't know the joys of outrunning security dogs on the hospital building sites and jumping 30 foot from the top of the unfinished houses into a pile of builders sand below, and hobbling off with your broken ankle as a trophy.
Clothes have to be a statement, with only the best good enough, although our jeans were way ahead of their time, with rips all over them, although not deliberately.
Relaxing is sitting in front of the Xbox playing the latest zombie flesh eating super Mario sonic hedgehog game. Which I shall now go and do, as these hand me down knickers are still riding up my arse and chafing.
Thursday, 19 March 2015
Supermarket Sweep
Their eyes, and hands, met as they reached simultaneously for the last tin of Heinz baked beans on the supermarket shelf.
Her velour leisure suit hugged her figure in a series of lumps and bumps, and perfectly coordinated with the familiar turquoise label.
Instantly Sam looked away, embarrassed, but he still noticed her perfume, Katie Price Stunning Eau De Parfum, the last perfume he'd bought Chardonnay for Christmas, before they'd split up for the seventh time.
Lauren looked up at the last tin, her red hair pulled back, tight to her head, Croydon facelift style, her face, caked in La Bronze 43 fake tan, was a perfect match for the tomato sauce that coated those pearls of orange deliciousness.
As she held the tin, she saw her plastic, pound shop, fingernails lightly brushing the backs of Sams fingers. She knew she should stop, but somehow she couldn’t let go.
Was it Sams warm hands? His cute smile as he tried not to look at her? Or did she just really, really want those beans ?
Sam finally looked up, those few seconds had felt like, well seconds, but their fingers were still intertwined around the aluminium container and something had to be done to end this encounter. “Sorry, all yours” he said quietly, slowly disentangling himself from what, now, felt like a bear hug around his hand.
“Thanks....wanna share them ?” Lauren tentatively dipped her hefty size eights into the dating waters, it was out there now, no going back. She waited, her breath, flavoured with the aroma of Red Bull was shallow, her heart pounding out the latest Calvin Harris beat, her mind creating several emergency exit procedures.
“What? You mean half a can each ?” Sam really hadn’t thought that through properly. He was naive in the world of women, Chardonnay had told him that after their fifth breakup, she'd said he wouldn't know what to do with a real woman, even one that came with instructions, though over the sound of Call of Duty, Sam only heard, sandwich, Hellmans and construction. Who knows what went through a womans mind at times ?
Lauren stood, confused by his response, but went to def con two, eye fluttering, which was difficult when one of your eyes was slightly lazy, and an attempt at a sexy pout. “I meant wanna share them over a meal of beans on toast, you buy em, I'll cook 'em, a glass of Lambrini, that sort of thing?”
At last the penny dropped at the implication of his stupidity, “erm...yeah, yeah, I'd like that,” he was flustered, talking wildly, “What about the bread, should I get that, and the Lambrini, shall I get that as well ?”
Lauren tipped her head slightly, her large hooped earring, clattered heavily against her shoulder, making her wince, “I'm sure I have a few slices of bread, just grab a bottle”
They exchanged numbers, arranged a date and went their separate ways, Sam clutching the tin of beans as if it was a bar of gold, he wasn't letting those out of his sight.
On the day, Sam even managed to remember the bottle of Lambrini, its tartness cutting away at the taste of the most delicious beans on toast, he'd ever had.
Afterwards they sat in the lounge, A DVD of Notting Hill played, in the background Ronan Keatings delicately precise tones singing “When You say Nothing At All”.
They began to talk, and talked late into the early hours, so late that Sam was invited to stay the night, on the sofa of course, Lauren wasn't that kind of girl, it took two dates to get her, hard to get, body into bed, mostly because it was upstairs and the climb had to be worth it.
The second date took place the following night. Apparently Sam didn't need instructions, well that’s what Lauren had told him anyway. That was nearly twenty years ago, and even now, they celebrated their anniversary with beans on toast and a bottle of Lambrini, ahh the good old days.
Thursday, 12 March 2015
Attrition
High noon stand off
weapons holstered, eyes
lock softly on target. Voices
buried under broken stone,
tremble like trigger fingers,
words lost in a maelstrom of silence.
Toe to toe, storm erupts, armies
rampage, a flurry of arms and gale
force disarray. Salt soaked tears moisten
blood red lips, a passion fully connected.
Sands settle, tempest subsides.
Eyes mirror a solitary thought.
weapons holstered, eyes
lock softly on target. Voices
buried under broken stone,
tremble like trigger fingers,
words lost in a maelstrom of silence.
Toe to toe, storm erupts, armies
rampage, a flurry of arms and gale
force disarray. Salt soaked tears moisten
blood red lips, a passion fully connected.
Sands settle, tempest subsides.
Eyes mirror a solitary thought.
Monday, 2 March 2015
Endearment
Milk bottle smile
petal pink lips
A delicate bouquet of words.
Soft and gentle eyes
grip like a vice
Words forgotten in an instant
petal pink lips
A delicate bouquet of words.
Soft and gentle eyes
grip like a vice
Words forgotten in an instant
Sunday, 15 February 2015
Breathless
Smiling eyes hide raging pain.
Dont leave me alone with my
thoughts, they'll eat me alive.
A kiss, unreal, wakes me breathless,
watching me hold onto nothing.
Dont leave me alone with my
thoughts, they'll eat me alive.
A kiss, unreal, wakes me breathless,
watching me hold onto nothing.
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