Poems By Mary

It dominated our lives’ yet not only our master or mistress ‘ it was our servant ‘

Each morning ‘ it demanded our attention ‘fine ash and debris ‘  

when attempting to clear ‘ it would rise from its slumber ‘ covering all with fine ash ‘ 

The heavy duty iron framework ‘ once cleaned had to be polished until it shone ‘ 

ready for the offerings carefully placed in its grate ‘

 the daily ritual of feeding it with rolled up

crumpled newspaper ‘ placed in the grate ‘ followed by criss cross kindling ‘ with the coals of all shapes and sizes ‘

a taper ‘ lit with a match ‘ pushed into the heart

of the layers of paper ‘ sticks and coal ‘

The fascination of watching ‘ flickers of flame within the bowels of the grate ‘ tortuously

twisting upwards ‘

with a snake- like movement ‘ with its fangs shooting out ‘ encircling all in its path ‘ 

red ‘ tinged with yellow ‘ mesmerising ‘ a dance ‘ watched by the child ‘ with fascination

yet with fear ‘ a dance ‘ turning coals into mini furnaces ‘ 

The child believing the red was the ballet shoe the yellow the legs ‘ of the Christmas Fairy ‘ 

who was journeying into the inky darkness of the chimney above ‘ 

I threw into the flames ‘ my letter to Santa ‘ 

keenly keeping an eye on proceedings ‘ 

Yes ‘ as l watched the flimsy letter ‘ as it was enveloped by the draught ‘ convinced my letter was now in the hands of the Christmas Fairy ‘ once free of the chimney top ‘ the smoke would carry my letter to Santa ‘ In his workshop ‘ the elves would make all l had requested ‘ as Mother assured me ‘ would be delivered by Santa on his sleigh ‘ pulled by reindeers ‘ on Christmas Eve ‘

Sat on the cushion’ my young sisters ‘ on my Mother’s knee ‘ 

bathed in the warmth of the fire in the grate ‘ 

The following morning ‘ expecting it to ‘ look cheerless ‘ giving no succour to warm our bodies ‘ yet looked dominant’ commanding ‘  

A daily routine each morning ‘ to be emptied of ash and debris ‘ cleaned and polished ‘ to shine ‘ with a grate’ to be routinely filled with all ‘ to meet our daily needs for warmth ‘

On Christmas morning ‘  Mother had risen early ‘ the fire in the grate ‘ giving warmth from the hot coals ‘ 

In the corner ‘ a Magnificent  Fir Tree ‘ bedecked with tinsel ‘ baubles and Fairy lights ‘ and below were our gifts ‘ the cot ‘ the doll ‘ and all l ‘ and my sisters had asked for ‘ 

Table set for Christmas ‘ for later in the day ‘ 

The Christmas Dinner ‘ with traditional fayre

‘ a wonderful day of ‘ party games ‘ visits from neighbours and their children ‘ friends and family popping by ‘

I carry in my head ‘ the magic of visiting the grottos ‘ in large shops ‘ with Santa patient ‘ in Awe ‘ as we whispered ‘ what we wanted him to bring us on Christmas Eve ‘ never let down ‘ a promise Is a promise .

Christmas Carols in the Sunday School Hall prior to Christmas’ the paraffin stove ‘ keeping us warm ‘ 

The Powerhouse ‘ the large iron framework ‘ the Hearth of The Matter ‘

Dominant and commanding ‘ of the Labour of my Mother ‘ yet giving and loving ‘ with its warmth ‘ the Hub of the kitchen ‘ the nightly gathering of myself ‘ and my sisters  with our mother storytelling’ and’ the annual ritual at Christmas’ year in year out ‘ of the early years of our childhood ‘ Memories vivid ‘still giving warmth ‘ within my mind and my heart ‘ 

Mary G. Douglas 

Do you love me?  said  the child of five 

Yes l love you ‘ says the mother 

Do you like me ? said  the child 

Do you always like me? said the mother 

No said the child ‘ when you are cross 

I don’t like what you are doing ‘ still love you 

Love is always in my heart ‘ not always in my head ‘

Do you enjoy cycling on your bicycle ?

Yes ‘ said the child ‘ l love cycling on my bicycle 

If your bicycle has a flat tyre’ how do you feel then  about your bicycle ? Are you annoyed ?

Yes said the child ‘ might give it a kick ‘

I don’t always like what you are doing ‘ but would not give you a kick ‘ 

Think again child ‘ when l am cross ‘ l would not dream of giving you a kick ‘

I know this ‘ and have no fear of this ‘ said the child of five 

Think of how you felt ‘ when your cycle did not please you ‘ said mother 

When your behaviour is unacceptable ‘ 

there is a change of tone ‘ which is suffice ‘

When you are out and about on your cycle ‘

if go over a stone or piece of glass ‘ you check the tyres ?

If you disobey a rule ‘ your behaviour putting you at risk to your safety ‘ or being rude to another ‘ 

It is not you l dislike ‘ said the mother 

It is your disobedience ‘ ignoring advice ‘

If your bicycle does not have a flat tyre ‘ you 

are able to enjoy cycling on it 

If advice given to you ‘ said mother ‘

You choose to ignore it ‘ then l am cross ‘ as 

your safety is important ‘ 

If you don’t check your bicycle’ after going over an obstacle 

your safety could be at risk ‘ 

The child of five ‘ after giving it thought ‘ 

I love you as much as l love my bicycle’

l now understand’ 

Mary Douglas 

Out of adversity comes greatness ‘ if all plain sailing ‘ our route without ‘ crosswinds ‘ what a dull person ‘
If all calm ‘ without the odd swell ‘ of the seas travelled ‘
One could not look back ‘ with a sense of pride
That was a journey and a half ‘ now cruising in
a stretch of water ‘ a myriad of memories ‘
the building bricks of experience
On reflection ‘ a sense of pride
Here on the high ‘ the pinnacle of success
Those two years of diversity ‘now behind me
The Horizon on the line ‘
Leaving it all behind ‘ l am ready ‘ to move forward and upwards ‘ with an eye on the future
The gap in my door ‘ closing soon ‘ shutting out the elements
With another door opening ‘ opening up other gaps in my life
With challenges to meet ‘ and met with the past knowledge ‘
Giving the starting block ‘ of the race ahead
A goal in sight ‘ armed with the baton of triumph’ hurdles left behind ‘
now on the next lap’ with a horizon ahead ‘ with laps behind ‘ never to retrace’ the hurdles
faced’
The foundations of my journey through life ‘
Well and truly embedded
The sea of life’ opening up new goals to accomplish
Not the armchair and telly ‘ feet up on a cushion
A one way ticket ‘ all that is to do ‘ switch a button
To the next channel of boredom
Leaving behind
No footsteps achieved ‘ no memories of self ‘
The road ahead ‘ mapping out memorable steps ‘ upwards and onwards
On the ladder of life ‘ each step taken from my childhood of memories ‘ giving me a solid foundation
to building the bricks ‘ solid and true
Another ladder to climb ‘ with new horizons
Knowing the bricks ‘ solid and true
Has given me a solid foundation ‘ with baton in hand ‘ held high
a road stretching outwards ‘ taking a bold view of the journey ahead ‘
If a door opens ‘ taking it in stride
Leaving behind ‘  memories of knowledge
enabling
Another journey’ to take in stride ‘ leaving behind
a road travelled ‘ another ahead
no armchair for me ‘ with only a telly to switch over ‘
There is much to achieve ‘ on this journey of mine
Leaving behind ‘ another journey on the sea of life
The harbour with protection ‘ time to make for the open sea ‘ a ship with a solid deck beneath my feet ‘ setting sail ‘
At the ready ‘ when the time comes ‘ leaving the harbour ‘ with the horizon ahead ‘
another adventure ‘
flag of endurance ‘ fortitude and determination
This journey of mine ‘ doors opening ‘ then shutting behind me
All hands on deck ‘ solid and true
Taking all in my stride
Mary G. Douglas

Everyone has an opinion ‘

based on what?

On what seems likely be true?

based on what ?

A comment made by another 

News to me ‘ and when passed around. ‘ 

arousing conversation ‘ as news to others 

The seed of ‘ original thought ‘ planted in 

the minds of others ?

changing it or turning it ‘ from one thing to another ‘

common phraseology often heard ‘ are you sure of this ? 

In my opinion’ this is more likely to be fact’

repressing the seed of original thought

as not palatable to absorb as a truth ‘ 

the mind is less accepting’ if the truth of the matter affects the feelings ‘ 

History based on ‘ an account of events 

Need for documentation to be based on evidence ‘ 

Historically ‘ events can be authentic or otherwise ‘ 

hence the need for documentation ‘ based on analytical evidence ‘

The world we live in ‘ can be moulded ‘

Facts’ through the decades becoming unpalatable 

respect and acknowledgement ‘ being eroded with the passing of time ‘

a price paid ‘ by the few’ to meet the palate for those whose interpretation preferable ‘ leading to conclusions ‘

Everyone is entitled to an opinion’

based on what?

A question’ when asked of the Opinionated’

creating a barrier of silence ‘

the power of original thought ‘ based on factual evidence’ with documentation ‘if not palatable to a mind unaccepting of having to absorb as a Truth? 

Nowadays everyone has an opinion’ 

rightly so ‘ problem being ‘ based on what ? 

The seed of ‘ original thought based on factual evidence ‘ 

Cannot be lost ‘ in the mist of time ‘ 

the power of documentation based on factual evidence ‘ 

We live in a world of many who are forgiving ‘ as this is enabling 

allowing one to move onwards and upwards’

an intelligent decision ‘ but equally stupid if one forgets ‘

Everyone has an opinion ‘ based on what ?

Hence the need for documentation based on factual evidence ‘

In this world we now live in ‘ with everyone having an opinion ?

If the past is forgotten ‘ it’s relevance challenged ?

As an unacceptable palatable truth ‘ preferable to be lost in the mist of time ‘ invalidates us all’

hence the reason why ?  Quote “ it is intelligent to forgive ‘ stupid to forget “unquote .

Mary G. Douglas 

Life is all about wishing ‘ aged 4 plus ‘

Two more sleeps ‘ then will be aged 5 ‘

No longer a child ‘ thought l ‘ now a grown up

Four books from the library ‘ read and reread 

There were no obstacles ‘ school uniform ‘

Shoes with laces ‘ not buttons ‘ school satchel 

Allowed to attend school ‘ after Easter ‘

As the years roll on ‘ the war had ended ‘ rationing of food ‘ sweets ending ‘ the magic number arrived ‘ aged 10 

Moving house ‘ 6 miles from city centre 

Reason being ‘ now had an addition to the family of three ‘ a brother 

After settling in ‘ a house with a front and rear garden ‘

Three bedrooms and a bathroom ‘ upstairs with a living / dining room ‘ if desired ‘ and kitchen ‘

A large white sink ‘ and one smaller 

This is when discovered ‘ more was less ‘

When living in the city ‘ in a tenement flat ‘

No need for laundering and ironing of one’s 

household linen ‘ personal clothes ‘ 

A ten minute walk ‘ to and from communal laundry ‘ spit spot ‘ on the dot ‘ washing all ‘ 

popped onto rails ‘ slid into place ‘ heated driers ‘ clothes ironed ‘ folded ‘ into laundry basket ‘ on wheels ‘ and trundled home ‘

The Initial  laundry company ‘ collected and delivered ‘ sheets :table cloth :blankets : beautifully pressed ‘ 

Shock and horror ‘ washing in tub of hot water and suds ‘ armed with scrubbing board ‘ monstrosity of a wringer ‘ 

Clothes line between four iron poles ‘ bag of pegs ‘ weather permitting ‘ washing hung ‘

A  modern house ‘ yes’ but a two weekly grind

Standing at a tub ‘ with scrubbing board and wringer  ‘ 

Mum exhausted ‘ take a turn ‘ inwardly yearning for the weekly trip ‘ to what was 

affectionally called ‘ The Steamie “ a luxury in comparison to the large tub ‘ scrubbing board and wringer ‘

It was harder work ‘ this modern house ‘ and longing for the daily treat ‘ walking to The Meadows ‘ Princes Street ‘ Corstorphine Hill ‘

Be careful ‘ thought l ‘ for what we wish for ?

Tollcross School ‘ an old building with a coal fire in every classroom ‘ 

Now attending a school ‘ architecturally boring 

corrugated walls ‘ 

Continued to work hard ‘ the 3 ‘R’s much enjoyed 

Made friends’ all three of us ‘ well suited ‘ no arguments’ 

Aged 12 a paper round ‘ another milestone ‘ earning a few shillings ‘ much enjoyed ‘

Soon catapulted into senior school ‘ 

Commercial Course ‘ English History Geography ‘ with Shorthand / Touch Typing ‘ 

Loved the challenge of speed ‘ fingers ‘ flying hither and thither ‘ only problem ‘ being left - handed ‘ could not build up speed ‘ with shorthand ‘ discovered quicker ‘ when fingers flew over the keys ‘ hidden under a board ‘

with a reputation ‘ as the fastest operator on a key board ‘ 

On leaving school ‘ to work in an office ‘ on the

typing pool ‘ the ‘ace speedo on the keys ‘ never to be topped by another ‘ 

Life ‘s journey ‘ over the decades ‘ a tale and more to tell ‘ as with everyone’

Now into the early years of my eighth decade ‘

On reflection ‘ have wonderful memories of the journey ‘ from childhood ‘ onwards ‘

No one held our hand ‘ pointless uttering the stock phrase ‘ it’s not fair ? when drying a few dishes ‘ to occasionally asked to turn the handle of ‘ the mangle ‘ 

with Mother ‘ her stock reply ‘

Life is not fair ‘ get on with it ‘ how true ‘ 

Knowledge is power ‘ it is also an awakening’

Life ‘ is full of challenges ‘ to be overcome ‘

This modern world ‘ with its i phones ‘ eyes down ‘ speed texting ‘ what a bore ? 

The beauty of the changing view’ outside the window of the bus ‘ giving up driving a car ‘ enhancing my journeys’ into the City of Edinburgh ‘ and beyond ‘ Portobello ‘ or a trip to Dundee ‘ Arbroath ‘ Aberdeen ‘ Perth ‘ or South ‘ over the border ‘ with trips to Devon ‘ 

The world is my oyster ‘ buses ‘ trains ‘ planes ‘ the car no more ‘ and not missed 

Freedom to roam ‘ North : South : East : West :

What fun it is ‘to wake in the morning ‘ beholden to none ‘ with the luxury of ‘ where shall l go today ?

Drawn up short ‘ when looking out into the garden ‘ front and rear ‘

A day of toil ‘ a must ‘ grass grown a foot and a half ‘ 

Seize the day ‘ all is well ‘ and on reflection ‘l feel blessed ‘ 

​Mary G. Douglas

A child of the Forties’ aged 5 years was astute 

The manner of understanding ‘ the world of discipline ‘ knowing the lines drawn 

Adult behaviour ‘ few on first name terms 

Neighbours’ using one’s surname ‘

To do so ‘ was crossing a line ‘ never Mr or Mrs 

The local shopkeeper ‘  friendly greeting ‘ 

Good morning or a good afternoon ‘ obliged to use Mr or Mrs with surname ‘ 

This form of communication had a good effect 

on Society overall 

First names’  breaking down barriers ‘ 

within a close community ‘ allowed a familiarity 

Thus removing the power of the individual 

To maintain a sense of individuality ‘ 

Not alone ‘ yet not lonely 

In the early fifties ‘ this habit remained ‘ 

A drive was on to provide housing for renting ‘

A son born into a family ‘ with limited privacy 

Entitling a family to a new home with all mod cons 

A living room ‘ a kitchen ‘ a bathroom with a bath ‘ filling us with awe ‘ 

The kitchen with a recess ‘ no more required 

Bedrooms for all ‘ giving a place to go

A place of solitude’ where one could read a book 

Peace and tranquility ‘ bliss 

Gains and losses noted ‘ when neighbours greeted each other 

In this new community of new housing ‘

First names used ‘ when greeted by neighbours 

Street by street ‘ familiarity and formality 

walked side by side 

The neighbour in another street ‘ Mr & Mrs

before one’s surname 

Friendly yes’ yet held together a mutual respect 

Local shopkeepers’ with a friendly greeting ‘

with Mr Miss or Mrs ‘ before one’s surname prevailed 

With the demise of this friendly formality ‘

In senior years ‘ reflecting on how this barrier 

when removed ‘ 

Lost was sense of alone ‘ yet not lonely 

strangely noted ‘ was the point of when familiarity breeds contempt ? 

The barriers down ‘ between neighbours’ 

shopkeepers ‘ the work place ‘

With the appearance of a feature of life’ 

A sense of privacy disappeared’ 

Replaced with a familiarity ‘ the lines crossed 

A contempt for the right to be alone ‘ yet not lonely’

Over the decades from the sixties 

A yearning for one’s abode ‘ to be surrounded with high hedges ‘ locked doors and gated pathways 

High rise flats ‘ with entry denied ‘ only those who lived within ‘ given the freedom of entry 

only as far as it took ‘ by lift or stairway 

to reach the point of access to one’s own front door ‘ no greeting over a fence of a neighbour 

Doors locked ‘ out of sight ‘ out of mind 

To knock on a neighbour’s door on the passing ‘ unacceptable 

No sign of life ‘ a passing smile or greeting 

Alone and lonely for many ‘ 

Now into the twentieth century ‘ gains and losses 

Privacy if desired ‘ a luxury as life out there 

on the streets with a heightened frenzy 

Everyone in a hurry ‘ shops now too busy 

customers  only loiter ‘ suffice to buy and pay 

gone are the days of shopkeeper with customer/s sharing time ‘ now an intrusion 

Time spent sharing time ‘is now expensive ?

money not made ‘ if spent on loitering’

The elderly with their walking frame ‘ the electric wheelchair user ‘

A wariness’ an unseen blanket ‘ nurturing their independence’ rightly so ‘

Gone are the days ‘ when only a surname used

denoting a safe environment 

Gone are the days when Mr Miss or Mrs before one’s surname ‘ a friendly greeting ‘

Gone are the days of being alone ‘ yet not lonely 

We now have a choice ‘ our home is our right to enjoy one’s privacy 

The choice of knowing ‘ neighbours are there for an emergency 

Gone are the days of the knot of neighbours 

standing around for a gossip ‘

Is society overall happier ‘ yes and no’

Nowadays life has reached a point of saturation 

Where now a luxury for many ‘ the old adage 

‘ A roof over one’s head ‘ food in one’s belly and clothes on one’s back ‘ 

When walking the streets of all city life ‘

For many ‘ sitting on the pavements. 

Gone are the days ‘ when mother said ‘

Take this to Mrs ? and say for the cat ‘

knowing full well ‘ between the large two dinner plates ‘ was a meal for two’

The elderly neighbours’ their pride and privacy intact 

Tucking into a meal for two’ 

No nostalgia for decades past ‘ except for one 

Wish l had bought the music on records : of those who are now iconic and famous 

A better return ‘ than many a pension ‘ in this 

Modern World 

Mary Douglas