mary-g-douglas.co.uk
Poems By Mary
The pluses and the minuses of Life
The garden with grass too long
Lush and green ‘ looks healthy
Swaying ‘ in the gentle breeze
Lawnmower out ‘ whirred into
action
Lush and green no more
straw ‘ lacked lustre ‘ unwieldy
No longer ‘ as nature intended
The Freedom to grow wild ‘ not tamed
Scurrying around ‘ the life hidden from view
Felt a pang of guilt ‘ yet had to be
The order of my life ‘ was disturbed
As l studied them’ moving house ‘ to where?
As l looked around ‘ found solace ‘
Not exactly a garden neat and tidy
Bees hovering ‘ going from flower to flower
Wasps a buzz ‘ please don’t come near me
A sting from either ‘ most unpleasant
City centres’ with garden ‘ all is growing ‘
as demanded ‘ the green keeper in charge
Controlling’ a bush cut to perfection
Bedding ‘ the splendour of a multitude
all colours of the rainbow ‘ Spring is here !
the carpet of colour ‘ brings joy to the heart
The older generation ‘ sitting on benches
The young ‘ stretched out on the grass ‘
The occasional one ‘ having a snooze
Groups ‘ sitting ‘ chattering ‘ the cares of their
Lives forgotten ‘ nature provides balm to the soul
Beats all the pills and potions on prescription
Natural remedy for vitamin D ‘ the Sun
on skin ‘ now exposed to the elements
Coats hats scarves ‘ the mantle of winter
Strewn around ‘ or used as a pillow ‘ one’s coat protecting ‘ as the damp ‘ hidden under the grass ‘ as with a plant ‘ drawn upwards’ surfacing ‘ hydration for the grass ‘ plants and flowers
The unsuspecting’ lying at length ‘ hidden
The rising damp ‘ not good for one’s bones
Travel far and wide ‘ other lands ‘ luscious and deadly ‘ scorpions with a deadly sting ‘
Lurking around ‘ hidden in the long grass
snakes ‘ some deadly and unforgiving’ my patch ?
You are invading ‘ hop it ‘ as one does
limping in agony ‘ looking for a broad leaf
plant ‘ if one rubs gently on the spot affected
Relief ‘ and thankful ‘ sting not deadly ‘
Onward bound ‘ travelling routes unknown
Out of our comfort zone’ unprepared
No back pack full of bottled water ‘ what then ?
Travelling light ‘ unprepared ‘ not risk assessed
The journey through life ‘ for the unprepared
is a journey fraught ‘ with the unknown ‘
Cities ‘ with hidden dangers ‘ lurking around
the quieter the area ‘ unfamiliar streets ‘
Leading to unknown areas ‘ strangers ‘
wandering ‘ looking for the main chance ‘
the unsuspecting’ now wary ‘ looks around
A pub on the corner ‘ laughter in the air
Takes off at speed ‘ an oasis’ there is no such thing ‘ as a pub with no beer ‘
The unsuspecting ‘ at close of ten ‘ bell rings
With a couple of beers ‘ a whisky neat ‘
Out into the dark of the unknown ‘
The crowd disperse’ all is quiet ‘ fear welling up ‘ heartbeat thumping ‘ a voice heard ‘
a beam of light ‘ disconnected’ until closer
The uniformed policeman ‘ a welcome sight ‘
A friendly smile ‘ and reassuring ‘ I’m lost officer ‘ in a voice not recognised’ as laced with fear of the child within ‘
Follow me sir ‘ a short walk ‘five minutes from here
the Main Street ‘ with shops and cafes ‘ taxi rank nearby ‘ a bus route and across the road
an underground railway ‘ if going far
Within five minutes’ an oasis of city life ‘
the back street ‘ left behind ‘ another world ‘ a
world of silence ‘ bereft of humans ‘ except for one ‘ alone ‘ with no sense of direction
Parting company ‘ my saviour ‘ the bobby on the beat ‘ a rare occurrence’ gone are the days
The police box on every corner ‘
The friendly face ‘ well remembered ‘
In cities ‘ there lurks more danger ‘ if one goes off the beaten track
In jungle ‘ there lurks danger ‘ if one goes off the beaten track ‘ the training from childhood
‘ reading signs ‘ knowledge of how to recognise the signs ‘ left by others ‘ opening up
Smoke rising from a fire ‘ murmur of voices ‘shapes of all sizes’
The loneliest place’ in the world ‘ is in an unfamiliar street. alley or surroundings with buildings ‘ business premises ‘ closed after six
In a city large or small .
The loneliest place by far ‘ in the world
One’s own home with a garden front and to the rear ‘ if on one’s own ‘ not a solitary life
The garden full of life ‘ the neighbours’
not imposing ‘ reassuring’
There if an emergency arises ‘
The stages ‘ over decades ‘ memorable and a joy ‘ in the main ‘ family and friends ‘ each doing as we all do ‘ busy days ‘ lazy days ‘ aspirations’ ambitions ‘ driving ‘ the route taken
Not a straight road ‘ change of direction
On reflection’ the ups and downs ‘ of life
pay us a visit. ‘ an apprenticeship ‘ with no closure ‘ a life with purpose’ goals achieved ‘ or abandoned’ going down another avenue
diversity ‘ leading to another ‘ unknown
to be challenged ‘ with fortitude ‘
On reflection ‘ it is a blessing ‘ the future ‘ unknown ‘ when reaching the day’ when one’s garden at front ‘ and to the rear ‘ or if living in a flat ‘ the city streets familiar ‘ with open space ‘
with countryside and coastlines ‘ within reach
The best of both worlds ‘ freedom to roam ‘
freedom to remain at home ‘
Yet ‘ mankind not at rest ‘ outer space beckons aspirations ‘ ambitions ‘ to know the unknown
In gardens to the front ‘ with one at the rear ‘ the hiker on a planned route ‘ the climber climbing ‘ aim to reach the summit ‘ others on skis ‘ or on a sled ‘ with huskies’ on a mission ‘ or one’s mode of transport’
Aspirations ‘ the aphrodisiac’ without it ‘
The point of living ‘ is pointless without aspirations’ goals to be achieved
A reason for living ‘ is in the doing ‘
On reaching an age ‘ on reflection ‘ the past if without aspirations’ and ambitions ‘ is a hollow victory ‘ if devoid of life’s ups and downs’
Rich in diversity and goals achieved ‘
Aspirations and ambitions ‘ to yet achieve ‘
Why not ?
It is not the journey. ‘ it is when on reflection’ not a blank sheet ‘ then moving onwards and upwards’ new horizons’ aspirations and ambitions
Why not ?
Mary G. Douglas
The old and the new? Are we any wiser ?
We now have a virtual world
Algorithms used to alter reality
0n a journey ‘ in one’s imagination
Be what we want to be ‘ not who and what we are ‘
The real world ‘ can be altered’
If not in full control of the facts ‘
Creating a fantasy in one’s mind
Truth ‘ if one cannot reach the point’
accepting ‘ a break in the ‘ circuit of life’s journey
The point of the day of reckoning ‘
The day one ‘ pauses for reflection
Is the day of self retribution’ the regrets
over decades past ‘ the ‘ if only ‘ l would now be ‘
What would one now be ?
Wealthy ‘ regretting the money spent over the years ?
Money is not always the panacea to contentment
Peace of mind ‘ if one can be self - forgiving
When the day one’ pauses for reflection
When Fiction meets Fact at the Crossroads of one’s life
Which road is the road ‘ for moving forwards
Senior years ‘ decades of building bricks ‘
To live in a house of contentment’
The events of one’s childhood ‘ can be one of amusement
The more we think we know ‘ the less we know
The journey to adulthood ‘ an apprenticeship
the errors of judgement ‘ on reflection ?
Tempered with the passing of time ‘ irrelevant
If one can reflect ‘ one has tried one’s best
No one has a crystal ball ‘ if lack of understanding on one’s journey ‘ of the needs of those close to your heart
are not kept on par ‘ with the why ?
The world inhabited by children ‘ is not
the world inhabited by adults ‘
adults wrapped up in the moment’ lacking the understanding’ when their comfort zone is interrupted’
By the actions of ‘ what is the only option
Aged ten ‘ found myself moving house
The familiar streets of Edinburgh ‘ my childhood friends ‘ no goodbyes ?
On reflection ‘ preference was my life on the streets of Edinburgh
Suburban life ‘ was a leap ‘ unprepared ‘
Loving parents ‘ a new beginning ‘ with little understanding?
The Paradox of how a new beginning ‘ left one mourning for the old ‘
Still had to share a bedroom ‘ with two siblings
The trip to the local wash house for mum ‘
Seamless ‘ huge tub for doing one’s washing
The huge array of dryers ‘ a blessing
The friendships built up ‘ the camaraderie ‘
the play area for children ‘ exciting
The journey to and from one’s home to “ The Steamie ‘
The large laundry needs ‘ whites ‘ collected by ‘ the private company ‘ all returned pristine ‘
Out in the suburbs ‘ in our new home ‘
It was a large tub ‘ with wash board and wringer ?
Clothes line in the rear garden ‘ wet or dry washing according to the weather ?
Progress ?? methinks not ‘
when asked by mum to assist ‘ ca’ ing the handle of the roller ‘
The only respite ‘ we had a bathroom ‘
Yet still had a longing for the old life of my childhood
The only difference was ‘ the bath ‘
Outside the door of the flat ‘ the city streets familiar
Princes Street ‘ the Meadows , Corstorphine Hill
Portobello ‘ within waking distance
Tolcross School ‘ much loved ‘ a wrench
The house in the suburbs ‘ outside the door
A world ‘ of change ‘ to a ten year old ‘
Within a year ‘ altered with an event ‘ similar to the recent Pandemic’
Tuberculosis’ the scourge of the Fifties ‘
Dad was removed from our lives ‘ with no little warning
The child overnight became an adult ‘
Two years and more ‘ our family unit ‘ broken
Fortunately’ we had caring extended family which cushioned the blow
The loss of our dad ‘ mum left to take on the role ‘ a single parent of a family of five
On reflection my apprenticeship of childhood ‘
Shaped me for the adult world ‘
This is a story ‘ the story of my generation
Life is not fair ‘ said l ‘ when complained ‘ a few dishes ‘ my task as a five year old ‘
Life is not fair ‘ replied mum ‘ finish the task ‘ and dry them properly
Decades times seven plus ‘
I give thanks for the parents ‘ who taught me well
If one is faced with adversity ‘ one just rolls up one’s sleeves ‘
Have you got a right elbow ? said mum
When at one of Life’s crossroads ‘
Stopped me in my tracks ‘ switching my attention
At the end of a telephone ‘ in a local phone box
Stood silent ‘ then came the ‘ punchline ?
The voice of mum ‘ 60 miles between us ‘
Use it ‘ said she ‘ phone went silent
This was the defining moment ‘ as l left the phone box ‘ the road ahead ‘ mapped out ‘
On reflection ‘ the road ahead ‘ with its twists and turns ‘
A journey for each and everyone at home and overseas
Pointless ‘regretting’ the road ahead for us all
mapped out ‘
Everyone has a story to tell ‘ the telling of the story ‘ is another matter .
Fact of life ‘ if the journey told ‘ is a journey of losses and gains ‘ errors of judgement ‘ natural to us all ‘
Career choices ‘ personal choices ‘ such is life
Hurting no other ‘ yet ‘ growth of ourselves ‘
as out of adversity ‘ a challenge faced ‘
still in charge’ of one fundamental fact
when moving onwards and upwards ‘
The virtual world ‘ a world of fantasy ‘ cannot give escapism ‘
Those words ‘ held fast ‘ dad’s wisdom’ when aged sixteen ‘
always be the keeper of your own soul:
And the eyes are the mirror of the soul:
Life is an adventure ‘ it’s a journey ‘ with many twists and turns ‘
On reflection ‘ the decades past ‘
Now a memory ‘ of acceptance ‘ my apprenticeship of childhood ‘ in preparation for adulthood ‘
The more l think l know ‘ the less l know ‘
The fireside chair can wait ‘ not yet ready ‘
Life is an adventure ‘ it’s a journey ‘ with many twists and turns’
No virtual world ‘ no fantasy desired ‘
The real world ‘ we have no crystal ball’
Not yet ‘ the finished article ?
Mary G. Douglas
Wood and strings !!!
How does one make a puppet ?
To do so ‘ one needs a head start
Looks a heavyweight ‘ with a brain to match
Yet to be able to manipulate’ a lightweight best
Hence an empty vessel ‘
With eyes ‘ a wide stare ‘ cold and calculating
A cheesy grin ‘ fixed lacking warmth
A body ‘ stiff as a board ‘ with no Heart
Arms hang loose ‘ with hands ‘ when commanded ‘ must wave ‘ limpish
with fingers flip flop ‘ no grip
Legs that cannot walk the walk
A mouth that cannot talk the talk
Neither Master nor Mistress of itself
The world is its stage ‘ yet cannot alone
Hold an audience ‘ needs to be propped up
The hand that ‘ holds the answer ‘ unseen
The voice ‘ so beguiling ‘ the words match
that of another ‘ as has not a mind of its own
A scripted command of all that is uttered
The controller ‘ with a hand in all that is said
The World is a stage ‘ with those who command
With those who ‘ are a captive audience
and ‘ those who sit in the wings ‘
Puppets are made ‘ puppets are manipulated
Puppets are programmed ‘ must stick to the script
With words so crafted ‘ to hold an audience
Who is the puppet ‘ who is the master ‘ who is the mistress of one’s own universe ?
The puppet who is captivating the audience
Is always present ‘ yet unseen ‘ behind the booth ‘
Hidden from view ‘
Punch and Judy ‘ captivated yet gave unease !!
the antics ‘ and the dialogue ‘ controlling
The puppet today ‘ is not in a booth ‘
It stands on occasions ‘ behind a podium at home and overseas
The script ‘ designed ‘ on how to captivate ‘
A puppet regime ‘ with no power ‘ must stick to the script
The unseen manipulator ‘ in the shadows ‘
With a view ‘ to have the audience on the stage of Life
Dance to the tune of the rhetoric ‘ carefully crafted ‘ fooling some ‘ not the majority
Incapable of taking part in a debate ‘
Words of passion ‘ not from a puppet ‘
Wooden ‘ spoon fed ‘ lacklustre diatribe
The more one listens ‘ the less one hears ‘
Authenticity comes from the heart ‘
A puppet ‘ manipulated ‘ is without heart ‘
and ‘ with no mind of its own ‘
The days of “Punch and Judy “ is no more ‘
The shifting sands of Time ‘
No more ‘ found on beaches ‘ entertaining the masses ‘ yet not ???
The Puppet is found ‘ in all walks of life
From the pinnacles of politics ‘ and in management ‘ and on the shop floor ‘
Democracy is defined ‘ with ballot paper ‘ and a pencil ‘ inside a booth ‘ hidden from view ‘
A United nation ‘ interdependent ‘ holds the power.
No borders ‘ freedom to roam ‘ one can determine
The fate of one’s today’s tomorrows and ‘ beyond .The World is there to explore !!
The meeting of minds and culture broadening our understanding of the world we live in .
Mary G. Douglas
Memories of the 40s
In 1944 was the year ‘ given the key
The key to the door of knowing ‘
The key to the world beyond the comic
the tales told by mother ‘ when sitting by the fireside ‘
Mum fetched my coat ‘ assuming ‘ going for a walk
Mary ‘ dad is going to take you to the library
I felt l was now a grown - up’ not a child
This was a special day ‘ me and dad ‘
It was a short walk from Morrison Street to
Fountain bridge
FountainBridge was out of bounds ‘ to a. child of four
I felt l was on a mission ‘ an adventure to the unknown
The doors of the library ‘ to another
World
Dad pushed open the massive door ‘ inside
A lady stood at a counter ‘ and in a whisper
Dad spoke ‘ she whispered in return ‘
Goodness ‘ thought l ‘ why whisper ‘ then my
eyes ‘ caught the sight of people ‘ one sitting quietly ‘ hunched over a table ‘ the book on the table ‘ massive ‘ and looked old ‘ just like the gentleman reading it ‘ he looked old ‘ others wandering around ‘ as if searching for something
Dad then took my hand ‘ and we became part of the group wandering around ‘ in silence we made our way to the children’s section ‘ a sign pointing the way ‘ it was a tiny bit scary ‘ glad l had my dad
Shelves and shelves of books ‘ he knew which one to search for ‘ and where to find it
My introduction into the world of ‘
What Katy Did ‘ and we then made our way to the lady ‘ standing behind the desk
She opened the first page ‘ stamped it with the date for it to be returned
All dealt with ‘ in a whisper
out we went ‘ onto the street outside ‘ from
silence to the noise of people ‘
Once home ‘ dad sat with me ‘ and together we sat and read ‘ the words were grown- up words ‘ not the words on comics ‘ l truly felt
I was leaving the age of childhood ‘ and the world of the big people
All l can recall from this book ‘ Katy got up to tricks ‘ and one of them’ was to take a tin of condensed milk to school ‘ and suck it out of the tin ‘
the journey to and fro ‘ with dad ‘ became a monthly event ‘
Dad encouraged me ‘ to read a book in one month ‘
I was to be proficient in reading ‘ in readiness for school aged five ‘
The day came ‘ dressed for school ‘ for mum
it was a feat of endurance
Me kittted out in school uniform ‘ brown with a brown and mustard yellow tie
My two sisters ‘ one aged three plus ‘ another a baby in the pram
Off we go ‘ thought l ‘ felt important’
crossing the road ‘ with the kindly policeman
making sure ‘ the traffic stopped ‘
Tolcross school beckoned us ‘ l felt not a grown -up any more
mum waited at the school gate ‘ as the bell
would ring shortly
A teacher gave instructions ‘ boys lined up
and girls lined up ‘ not a voice heard ‘ except the voice of the teacher
we were marched forward ‘ to our allotted classrooms
entering the room ‘ rows of desks ‘ two desks joined together ‘ with metal tubing
A fire burning in a grate ‘ in the corner behind the teacher’s desk
As l sat ‘ a horrid thought crept into my head ‘
I sat there ‘ in shock
Looked around ‘ convinced every child in the room knew
my navy school knickers ‘ l was not wearing them
there was a knock at the door of the classroom
filled with horror ‘ as mum made her way to the teacher’s desk
Whispering in the teacher’s ear
I sat rigid ‘ terrified’ my teacher now knew
I was sitting in class minus my navy knickers
Both set of eyes ‘ rested upon me ‘ mum walked towards my desk ‘
Whispered in my ear ‘ Mary come with me ‘
I felt the whole class of eyes fixed on me
I was led out of the classroom ‘ towards a small room ‘ and out of her bag ‘ pulled them out ‘mum had tears in her eyes
in a whisper ‘ she said over over ‘ l am so sorry
l was not at all pleased ‘ did not speak
My first day at school ‘ not forgotten
Within a week ‘ felt at home ‘ made friends
The day came ‘ l searched in the food cupboard ‘ good’ there it was
A small tin of condensed milk ‘ found a way of
piercing it with a nail and a hammer
Off l went to school ‘ now walking with friends
to and from school
The bell rang ‘ Playtime ‘ eagerly l ran to find a seat ‘ under the shelter
out with the tin of condensed milk’ tucked in my blazer pocket
Much as l tried ‘ l could not get a trickle of condensed milk out the tiny hole in the tin
ended up in a bin
Years later ‘ when an adult ‘ the Penny dropped
No air going in ‘ not a drip of the sweet condensed milk ‘ was mine to enjoy
Mary G. Douglas
Have we crossed a “ Bridge too Far ? Time will tell?
When l was 12 ‘ came of age ‘
Bye bye Primary School ‘ now a senior
James Clark Secondary’ at the foot of Arthur’s Seat
A commercial course ‘ shorthand typing ‘
History and French ‘ favourite subjects
Outside the windows of the classrooms ‘
Arthur Seat ‘ a distraction’
Often found it difficult to pay attention
The drone of the teacher’s voice ‘
One morning ‘ with my eyes to the left
The beauty of the hill ‘ bathed in warmth
The sun ‘ high in the sky ‘ dreamily wishing
I was standing on top ‘ of Arthur’s Seat
On the shoulder of this majestic iconic hill
The Lion’s head ‘ giving it a dignity ‘ not just any hill
Holyrood Park ‘ with St Margaret ‘s Loch
Memory ‘ wandering ‘ to when aged seven
Sitting on a boat ‘ with dad and my younger sisters aged five ‘ and three ‘ dad in charge of rowing ‘
On entering the middle section of the Loch
dad ‘ rested the oars ‘ we were in awe ‘
Our eyes ‘ taking in the beauty of the moment
Not a word spoken ‘ the sun high in the sky ‘
the silence broken ‘ with the gentle sound of
the surrounding water of the Loch ‘ the movement of the boat ‘ bobbing about ‘ as would a cork ‘
In the vast expanse of water ‘ with the sloping
side of the hill ‘ tall as l was ‘ aged seven
I felt l had shrunk in size ‘ it was eerie ‘
The magical moment ‘ the silence broken ‘
A shriek from dad ‘ the paddle of the oars ‘
taking us ‘ at speed ‘ backwards towards the
Jetty ‘ my eyes ‘ drawn downwards ‘ the sight
of water ‘ lying in a pool ‘ the boat was leaking
dad working the oars ‘ his face drained of colour
I felt fear ‘ as did my sisters ‘ yet no panic
as the boat skimmed backwards over the surface of the water ‘ the leak ‘ growing in size
gave power to dad ‘ an athlete ‘ strong and fit ‘
the minutes ticking ‘ felt like hours
The edge of the boat ‘ made contact with the jetty
My mind and body ‘ frozen ‘ the quiet of the moment ‘ a piercing sound ‘ dad barking an order
All three of us ‘ sitting like statues ‘ our minds fogged with fear ‘ robotically moved as one ‘
Clambered onto the jetty ‘ with dad ‘ with speed
tying the boat securely ‘ his face contorted
as rage turned the colour of his face ‘ from white to red tinged with purple
Truly convinced the keeper of the boat ‘ would be going for a swim ‘ from a great height ‘
as dad confronted him ‘ the keeper of the boat ‘his face filled with fear ‘ he too ‘ looked convinced’ he was going for a swim ‘ from a great height’ as dad enraged ‘ grabbed him by the shoulders ‘ screaming words alien to my young ears
The hapless keeper ‘ shaking like a jelly ‘
burst into tears ‘ and weak at the knees ‘ ended up in a heap ‘ curled up in a ball
thankfully dad ‘ calmed down ‘ he wrapped his arms round all three of us ‘ hugging us tightly
with silent tears running down his face
With shock and horror ‘ he looked above our heads
the boat was at a tilt ‘ the force of the water of the Loch
The pool had turned into an even bigger pool
‘ the rope tying the boat ‘ to the ring on a post ‘
It was clearly visible ‘ this boat was in trouble
dad left the keeper to it ‘ the boat was slowly sinking ‘ the keeper sprung into action ‘ untied the rope
fascinated ‘ as the boat ‘ now free began to drift ‘ when the inevitable happened ‘ it keeled over ‘ and slowly sank ‘ St Margaret’s Loch ‘
was reputed to be bottomless ‘
Jolted out of my dreamlike state ‘ drifting down the passing of Time’ with a tap tap tap of something gently connecting with my head ‘
the sound of a voice ‘ parroting one word ‘ bringing me back to my surroundings ‘
unconscious’ unconscious ‘ quietly spoken ‘
I dreamingly stared around me ‘ the class of children ‘ with grinning faces ‘ l looked upwards to the source of the light tapping on my head ‘ the long cane ‘ no doubt made out of bamboo ‘ then turned round ‘ there stood teacher ‘ a huge grin on his face ‘ he then spoke ‘
Hello unconscious’ where have you been ?
Can we now get on with the business in hand ‘
I asked you a question ‘ your mind clearly had wandered ‘
Only minutes had passed ‘ yet l had been on a journey down memory lane.
What was the question ? aware of the sound of stifled giggles ‘ and of the teacher ‘ looking highly amused. The mild indignity of having him
tapping the top of my head with his cane ‘ l felt a slight irritation ‘ despite only 12 yrs old ‘quickly forgotten : Yet now a memory of “ amusement .
On reflection ‘ this form of ‘ the right to do so
would not be permitted ‘ In this Modern World he
Would be reprimanded’ possibly on a charge of assault’ with all the added trials and tribulations
The paradox of living in an ambivalent world quote ‘ springs to mind
It was my inattentive behaviour ‘ creating a drama ‘ now appreciated
From going from relatively easily forgotten incident ‘ teaching me a lesson ‘ to in future to pay attention ‘ when in class ‘ to a point of crossing the line ‘ to an absolutist fact of the modern world ‘ the might of the law ‘ would have resulted in a career ended’ with the potential of charges of assault on a pupil. Have We !! crossed a Bridge ‘ Time will tell .
Mary G. Douglas .
The March of Time spanning 80 yrs plus
We now have a virtual world
Algorithms used to alter reality
0n a journey ‘ in one’s imagination
Be what we want to be ‘ not who and what we are ‘
The real world ‘ can be altered’
If not in full control of the facts ‘
Creating a fantasy in one’s mind
Truth ‘ if one cannot reach the point’
accepting ‘ a break in the ‘ circuit of life’s journey
The point of the day of reckoning ‘
The day one ‘ pauses for reflection
Is the day of self retribution’ the regrets
over decades past ‘ the ‘ if only ‘ l would now be ‘
What would one now be ?
Wealthy ‘ regretting the money spent over the years ?
Money is not always the panacea to contentment
Peace of mind ‘ if one can be self - forgiving
When the day one’ pauses for reflection
When Fiction meets Fact at the Crossroads of one’s life
Which road is the road ‘ for moving forwards
Senior years ‘ decades of building bricks ‘
To live in a house of contentment’
The events of one’s childhood ‘ can be one of amusement
The more we think we know ‘ the less we know
The journey to adulthood ‘ an apprenticeship
the errors of judgement ‘ on reflection ?
Tempered with the passing of time ‘ irrelevant
If one can reflect ‘ one has tried one’s best
No one has a crystal ball ‘ if lack of understanding on one’s journey ‘ of the needs of those close to your heart
are not kept on par ‘ with the why ?
The world inhabited by children ‘ is not
the world inhabited by adults ‘
adults wrapped up in the moment’ lacking the understanding’ when their comfort zone is interrupted’
By the actions of ‘ what is the only option
Aged ten ‘ found myself moving house
The familiar streets of Edinburgh ‘ my childhood friends ‘ no goodbyes ?
On reflection ‘ preference was my life on the streets of Edinburgh
Suburban life ‘ was a leap ‘ unprepared ‘
Loving parents ‘ a new beginning ‘ with little understanding?
The Paradox of how a new beginning ‘ left one mourning for the old ‘
Still had to share a bedroom ‘ with two siblings
The trip to the local wash house for mum ‘
Seamless ‘ huge tub for doing one’s washing
The huge array of dryers ‘ a blessing
The friendships built up ‘ the camaraderie ‘
the play area for children ‘ exciting
The journey to and from one’s home to “ The Steamie ‘
The large laundry needs ‘ whites ‘ collected by ‘ the private company ‘ all returned pristine ‘
Out in the suburbs ‘ in our new home ‘
It was a large tub ‘ with wash board and wringer ?
Clothes line in the rear garden ‘ wet or dry washing according to the weather ?
Progress ?? methinks not ‘
when asked by mum to assist ‘ ca’ ing the handle of the roller ‘
The only respite ‘ we had a bathroom ‘
Yet still had a longing for the old life of my childhood
The only difference was ‘ the bath ‘
Outside the door of the flat ‘ the city streets familiar
Princes Street ‘ the Meadows , Corstorphine Hill
Portobello ‘ within waking distance
Tolcross School ‘ much loved ‘ a wrench
The house in the suburbs ‘ outside the door
A world ‘ of change ‘ to a ten year old ‘
Within a year ‘ altered with an event ‘ similar to the recent Pandemic’
Tuberculosis’ the scourge of the Fifties ‘
Dad was removed from our lives ‘ with no little warning
The child overnight became an adult ‘
Two years and more ‘ our family unit ‘ broken
Fortunately’ we had caring extended family which cushioned the blow
The loss of our dad ‘ mum left to take on the role ‘ a single parent of a family of five
On reflection my apprenticeship of childhood ‘
Shaped me for the adult world ‘
This is a story ‘ the story of my generation
Life is not fair ‘ said l ‘ when complained ‘ a few dishes ‘ my task as a five year old ‘
Life is not fair ‘ replied mum ‘ finish the task ‘ and dry them properly
Decades times seven plus ‘
I give thanks for the parents ‘ who taught me well
If one is faced with adversity ‘ one just rolls up one’s sleeves ‘
Have you got a right elbow ? said mum
When at one of Life’s crossroads ‘
Stopped me in my tracks ‘ switching my attention
At the end of a telephone ‘ in a local phone box
Stood silent ‘ then came the ‘ punchline ?
The voice of mum ‘ 60 miles between us ‘
Use it ‘ said she ‘ phone went silent
This was the defining moment ‘ as l left the phone box ‘ the road ahead ‘ mapped out ‘
On reflection ‘ the road ahead ‘ with its twists and turns ‘
A journey for us all ‘ two parents with children
Three early teens ‘ one a toddler aged two years
Pointless ‘regretting’ the road ahead for us all
mapped out ‘
Everyone has a story to tell ‘ the telling of the story ‘ is another matter .
Fact of life ‘ if the journey told ‘ is a journey of losses and gains ‘ errors of judgement ‘ natural to us all ‘
Career choices ‘ personal choices ‘ such is life
Hurting no other ‘ yet ‘ growth of ourselves ‘
as out of adversity ‘ a challenge faced ‘
still in charge’ of one fundamental fact
when moving onwards and upwards ‘
The virtual world ‘ a world of fantasy ‘ cannot give escapism ‘
Those words ‘ held fast ‘ dad’s wisdom’ when aged sixteen ‘
Mary always be the keeper of your own soul
And the eyes are the mirror of the soul
Life is an adventure ‘ it’s a journey ‘ with many twists and turns ‘
On reflection ‘ the decades past ‘
Now a memory ‘ of acceptance ‘ my apprenticeship of childhood ‘ in preparation for adulthood ‘
The more l think l know ‘ the less l know ‘
The fireside chair can wait ‘ not yet ready ‘
Life is an adventure ‘ it’s a journey ‘ with many twists and turns’
No virtual world ‘ no fantasy desired ‘
The real world ‘ we have no crystal ball’
Not yet ‘ the finished article ?
Mary G. Douglas
