My Bedside Table - My Space

A mock Tiffany lamp with a dimmer feature sits on top of my bedside table, which is a fitted unit matching the headboard. A Mr and Mrs pair of teddy bears from the Outer Hebrides and dressed in authentic Harris tweed occupy the remaining space.

Below this, my bedside table is a work of art in the style of Tracey Emin’s unmade bed. The clutter is contained within the small area, and I know where everything is. It’s functional and how I like it. A biography of Agatha Christie, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte, a couple of poetry collections and a fantasy/horror novel make a tower of books topped with a notebook, a journal and a box of tissues. It never looks balanced or neat. Hand cream, an assortment of pens, a bookmark made by a child and another with ‘Desiderata’ on it, a straw coaster, plastic water bottle and just enough room for my phone which I rely on for an alarm. Don’t mention the dust.

Half a dozen perfumes, mainly Christian Dior are grouped together on an internal shelf. I have no sense of smell anymore, but I remember my favourites and still use them. Also on the shelf is a small torch, just in case. A jewellery box which belonged to my late mother and contains some of her things, special to me, takes up the rest of the shelf.

I keep my glasses in the drawer, with several spare pairs, a few charging cables for various devices and an iPod Shuffle music thingy full of Moody Blues albums which I take on holidays.

Beneath the drawer is an open space where keepsakes and bits and pieces are safe in a perfectly fitting box.

I would love a tidy, minimalistic bedside table. It will never be, not in my busy house.

My Haiku,

I do not lose things
They’re on my bedside table
With everything else.

It’s only some keys,
They will be under something
Not exactly lost.

A crumpled tissue,
Used for cleaning my glasses
Had covered them up.

PMW 2025

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Babel

Towers  have always been aspirational in form and intent; imposing structures reaching up to the heavens; testament variously to religious conviction, civic pride, architectural ability, wealth, power, ego. Blackpool has one, for which it is rightly famous, and my fellow bloggers have written entertainingly about it this week, so I shall focus elsewhere in space-time and I'll précis for you what I know about the daddy of all towers - the first, the finest, a wonder of the ancient world.

Those of you familiar with the Bible (book of Genesis to be exact) will know it references the tower of Babel in its apocryphal account of that time when "the whole earth was of one language and of one speech" and of a people who said "let us build us a city and a tower whose top may reach unto heaven." It goes on to tell how the Lord intervened to remind them not to over-reach themselves, "and there confounded their language that they may not understand one another's speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence...and they left off to build the city..." - divine 'divide and rule' tactics if ever there were (and a Hebraic re-writing of history).

Of course there is a historical basis in the story, for that tower did exist in ancient Babylonia, a city state in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq).

Babylonia in happier times - with tower in the background

Babel, or the great tower of Babylonia, was known at the time as the Etemenanki and was a ziggurat begun by the Chaldean King Nebuchadrezzar around 1,000BC. It was further enhanced by King Nabopolassar and completed by his son King Nebuchadrezzar II. It was a temple structure dedicated to the Mesopotamian god Marduk and was recorded as being the tallest single building in the civilized world, having seven stepped tiers and standing over 300 feet high. As well as being the site of religious and cultural practices, at its top was an astronomical observatory from which the movement of sun, moon and stars was plotted and calculations about cyclical events such as eclipses was made.

The great tower of Babylonia dominated the city (with its famous hanging gardens) and the surrounding countryside for several hundred years until Alexander the Great came to power in the region. In iconoclastic mood, he ordered its destruction in 330 BC. Alexander had plans to replace it with an even more audacious structure to his own Greater Glory, but he died before the rebuilding could commence.


Tower of Babel (artist's impression, after Breughel)

Here's the start of what will probably end up being quite a long poem on the theme of impermanence:

Babel
Where velvet-headed vultures drift in circles
high above the blistering plain by day,
where tessellated moonflowers unfurl their blossom
in the chill of silvery nights,
here lies a dust compounded of the bricks and bones,
of what was mighty Babel, once a wonder of the world...

(to be continued...once the World Cup is over)

Thanks for reading. Come on England, S :-)

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Tower - Jewel of the North West Coast

My son once told me that he could just about see Blackpool Tower if he stuck he his head out of the rear Velux window in his new loft conversion bedroom.  I was horrified, knowing that he must have climbed on to the wrong side of the banister and be sitting or standing on it with the drop of the stairs behind him. He certainly wasn’t tall enough to stretch from the other side. With visions of his mates coming round to see, and the real possibility of accidents, I locked the window and told him I did not want bits of broken boys on the landing. He was eleven at the time. The threat of being sent back to his old bedroom was enough. These days, it’s the attic again as we find ourselves housing many items for our grown up children who have long since fled the nest into homes of their own, homes lacking in storage space it would seem.

Both son and daughter had their fourth birthdays at the Tower. It was Jungle Jim’s, a ride to the top and the circus. The aquarium had recently moved to the Sea Life Centre when our son was four and the space was taken up with a dinosaur exhibition. A bit scary, for me. The view from the top is incredible. I haven’t ventured on to the outside platforms, so it could be argued that I haven’t actually been to the top, though I have stood on the glass floor known as the ‘walk of faith’ and looked down.

The highest building I have elevated is the Empire State Building many years ago. That was a great view of New York and surrounding areas. I’m not worried by heights but I can’t cope with crowds and it was too busy for me to wait to get an ‘I’m at the top of the Empire State Building’ medal. I think it was still the tallest skyscraper in New York at that time.

There’s something about building towers that fascinates children.  I worked with young children in an infant school and I watch my grandchildren doing the same thing. They nearly always build upwards and have fun knocking it down. Occasionally a child will make a straight line instead.

 

 

 

 

 

One day I might follow in the footsteps of Sir John Bickerstaffe and visit Paris, where a trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower would be a must, and maybe I'd share his vision.

My poem was originally written as an exercise, now slightly re-edited.

 

Blackpool Tower       (McGonagal style)

 

 

“I know what we need,” Mr Bickerstaffe said,

Leaning back in his chair with his hands in his head.

He’d been to Paris and seen their tower

So decided to exercise some mayoral power.

“We could have one. Build it here.

There’s space just north of Central Pier.”

 

From his own funds he chucked in two grand

For building to commence on Promenade land,

And in September, 1891

The architects laid the foundation stone.

 

“They’ll come from miles,” Mr Bickerstaffe cried

“When to the very top they can ride!

Here in Blackpool we’ll have the most

Amazing tower on our golden coast!”

 

Girder by girder the tower took shape

As cynics below would stare and gape

And mutter about how long it would be

Before Bickerstaffe’s folly got washed out to sea.

 

“I’ve another idea!” Mr Bickerstaffe exclaimed,

With pride at the thought of being acclaimed.

“We’ll put in a circus with lions and clowns

And be the envy of all other towns.

Sixpence admission, another sixpence to pay

For the circus, and again for the ride; 1/6d for all day!”

 

And then, at last it was complete,

Reaching nearly 519 feet

And to the public, opened its door

On the 14^th May, 1894.

 

 Pamela Winning 2010 (edited 2018)

 

 

(The photo of Blackpool is from Visit Lancashire and is the best I've ever seen of the Tower)

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Blackpool

by Nikki Magennis

I’ll approach by night on greasy, choppy waters, as they lick along the front of the Pleasure Beach. Maybe by pedalo. Perhaps with a flick-knife clamped between my teeth. I’ll spidercreep. Avoid eye contact. Hide my face behind a mound of candyfloss.

I know what I’ll find. I know those greased pavements, those blasted faces, those see-saw seagulls circling over the smatters and smears and the flotsam and jetsam that washes up on beer-scented, frothy-tipped waves. I know these places like the inside of my own guts. Booming and seething and thronging.

It’s possible to drift invisibly among a multitude of fluttering, drunken tourists, dazzled by neon and intoxicated by the sea air, heads tipping back to peer at the braced heights of the Tower. The Illuminations’ll cascade around me, it’d be like the end scene in Apocalypse Now, only with the smell of fried fish wafting over the water.

Red and white striped life-rings, lipstick-red rock with a snow white centre and letters shot through it. Sunburned bingo wings, red on top – creamy white underside. Glittery nipples dotting the tip-top of tits. A fight, blood bursting from a nose, scattered over a clean-pressed white shirt. Clown-faces, jelly-doughnut mouth, chalkwhite cheeks. The neon. The stars.

I’ll carry a poet with me, ask him to translaaaaaate the accent, yer see-saw back and forth, drawn out like toffee, wade through those long vowels, scrape the swearys off yer shoes.

Lac Noir. Piscina Negra. Stagno Nero. Schwarze Lache. Loch-Dhu.

***

Nikki Magennis is an author and artist. She has never been to Blackpool.

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