written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label distinctive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label distinctive. Show all posts

Tuesday, 25 March 2025

Colour

 

How dull life looked in monochrome. My old photographs are all black and white, including my christening. I expect my family heirloom gown was white, but I’ve no idea what colours my relatives were dressed in and there’s no one left who would remember. I can understand why my grandchildren might believe there was once a world without colour. My dad, a keen photographer, though he often forgot his camera, preferred colour slides and I have his collection from the late 1950s until he passed away in the mid 1980s. I love the early ones. Memories of my childhood in a vibrant, colourful Lancaster. Through these, I will always know that my favourite dress, on holiday in Jersey c1961, was pale turquoise.

Television was black and white. Ours was rented, probably from Rediffusion, or similar. I think most people rented their television in those days. The first time I saw colour television was at the home of family friends around Christmas in 1969. I thought it was rubbish until told it wasn’t working properly and was being returned. We were watching a chat show, long before Michael Parkinson, but that sort of thing. Wide, horizontal stripes of separate primary colours slowly climbed the screen over and over again. I thought that was it, Colour TV, what a swizz. We got one the following year, rented, I expect. Lots of programmes were still broadcast in monochrome and those that weren’t were advertised ‘In Colour’, it was such a major thing. I remember being impressed seeing my favourite cartoon, The Flintstones, in colour for the first time. It was amazing and I was at least fifteen years old.

I don’t think I have an absolute favourite colour. It depends on the mood I’m in and if I’m choosing clothes or home décor. Our new bathroom, well, two years old but still new, is beautiful, high-gloss white with tangerine towels and mats. Perfect.

Colours are important. School uniforms, sports teams, businesses and retail outlets are all instantly recognisable by their colours and logos. When I went to high school, I wanted to wear the distinctive Air Force Blue uniform of Collegiate Girls Grammar, but I’d failed my 11+ so that was that. Navy blue for a disappointed me.

I found this amusing, colourful poem with no known author,

Five little crayons coloured a scene.
Yellow, blue, orange, red and green.
“Look,” said Yellow, “My sun is bright!”
Blue said, “Great! My river’s just right”
Orange said, “Flowers! I’ll draw something new”
Red said, “Great, I’ll add some too!”
“Sigh,” said Green, “I’m tired of trees,
And grass and bushes and tiny leaves.
I think I’ll draw a big green cloud!”
“A big green cloud should be allowed!”
The crayons all smiled and didn’t think twice.
A big green cloud sounded rather nice!

                                                                      Anonymous

 Thanks for reading, Pam x

Tuesday, 23 July 2024

Bells - Last Orders


 

The first bells of any significance to me must be the ones used by my father and grandfather to call ‘last orders’ and ‘time, gentlemen, please’ in their pubs. They were fixed to a post or wall behind the bar and with a firm tug on the rope, sent out a loud peal with an authoritative tone. At some point the word ‘gentlemen’ was removed and it was simply ‘time, please’, even in the Vaults. The Vaults was considered the mens’ bar, simply because no ladies would like to go in and from what I remember in my formative years, the men were not always gentlemen.

Another distinctive bell I remember from childhood is the ringing of my dad’s alarm clock. These days everything bleeps digitally from a radio or mobile phone, but this wind-up monster, which no longer works but I keep it as a treasured possession, was loud enough to wake the whole house and pub beneath – but not always my dad. I don’t know who was the genius behind the idea, but biscuit tin, yes, a metal one, a few of my marbles inside and the clock on top of the lid was louder than ever with the added power of ‘rattle’. That worked a treat.

I started secondary school at what is locally known as ‘the old Palatine’, an impressive building between Bennett Avenue and Park Road in Blackpool, which is now the University Campus of Blackpool and the Fylde College. It was great for me to return decades later and find it much the same inside, except the long corridor which stretched from one end of the school to the other now had sets of fire doors closing the length into sections. In my early school days it was open and at each end hung a bell. These two bells were monitored by duty prefects who rang them to announce the end of lessons. They could be heard all over the school and were much more efficient than the weak electric buzzers we had to listen out for in the new school twelve months later when we relocated to St Anne’s Road. The old building had character, the new one did not. The old building is still standing and is useful. The new one, demolished and rebuilt after only fifty years, or thereabouts.

I wish I knew what happened to my mother’s brass bell. It was made in the style of a lady with a tiny waist wearing a crinoline skirt. It lived on the mantelpiece for years, then, when my mum was ill and in bed, she had it close to her so she could ring it if she was alone and needed something. It is yet another thing that seemed to vanish into thin air after she died.

Here is a poem, Edgar Allan Poe, placing bells where he perceived they belonged in a life-cycle,

The Bells 

1

  Hear the sledges with the bells—
                 Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
        How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
           In the icy air of night!
        While the stars that oversprinkle
        All the heavens, seem to twinkle
           With a crystalline delight;
         Keeping time, time, time,
         In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
       From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
               Bells, bells, bells—
  From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

2

        Hear the mellow wedding bells,
                 Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
        Through the balmy air of night
        How they ring out their delight!
           From the molten-golden notes,
               And all in tune,
           What a liquid ditty floats
    To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
               On the moon!
         Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
               How it swells!
               How it dwells
           On the Future! how it tells
           Of the rapture that impels
         To the swinging and the ringing
           Of the bells, bells, bells,
         Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
               Bells, bells, bells—
  To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

3

         Hear the loud alarum bells—
                 Brazen bells!
What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
       In the startled ear of night
       How they scream out their affright!
         Too much horrified to speak,
         They can only shriek, shriek,
                  Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
            Leaping higher, higher, higher,
            With a desperate desire,
         And a resolute endeavor
         Now—now to sit or never,
       By the side of the pale-faced moon.
            Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
            What a tale their terror tells
                  Of Despair!
       How they clang, and clash, and roar!
       What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
       Yet the ear it fully knows,
            By the twanging,
            And the clanging,
         How the danger ebbs and flows;
       Yet the ear distinctly tells,
            In the jangling,
            And the wrangling.
       How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
             Of the bells—
     Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
            Bells, bells, bells—
 In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

4

          Hear the tolling of the bells—
                 Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
        In the silence of the night,
        How we shiver with affright
  At the melancholy menace of their tone!
        For every sound that floats
        From the rust within their throats
                 Is a groan.
        And the people—ah, the people—
       They that dwell up in the steeple,
                 All alone,
        And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
          In that muffled monotone,
         Feel a glory in so rolling
          On the human heart a stone—
     They are neither man nor woman—
     They are neither brute nor human—
              They are Ghouls:
        And their king it is who tolls;
        And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
                    Rolls
             A pæan from the bells!
          And his merry bosom swells
             With the pæan of the bells!
          And he dances, and he yells;
          Keeping time, time, time,
          In a sort of Runic rhyme,
             To the pæan of the bells—
               Of the bells:
          Keeping time, time, time,
          In a sort of Runic rhyme,
            To the throbbing of the bells—
          Of the bells, bells, bells—
            To the sobbing of the bells;
          Keeping time, time, time,
            As he knells, knells, knells,
          In a happy Runic rhyme,
            To the rolling of the bells—
          Of the bells, bells, bells—
            To the tolling of the bells,
      Of the bells, bells, bells, bells—
              Bells, bells, bells—
  To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

Edgar Allan Poe

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Tuesday, 18 July 2023

Catalogues With Glossy Pages

As an eleven and twelve year old, there was something exciting about the arrival of the latest home-shopping catalogue. It took both hands to lift it on to the table and all day to choose items of clothing, sticking to the given budget. Glossy pages with a distinctive inky smell felt pleasant to touch and were slowly turned from one appealing outfit to another with corners folded down to mark likely purchases. My mother wasn’t well enough to take us shopping and growing girls needed new clothes all the time. The catalogue was a life-line.

Later, when I was considered old enough to go to town with friends, I was given money to buy things from Chelsea Girl – my favourite boutique – and Marks & Spencer for underwear. The catalogue always had a place, though, and as I grew up and raised my own family, it was useful for household items. Affordable credit added to the appeal of the convenience of home shopping.

We used to keep the catalogues in a cupboard with the fat telephone directories. Littlewoods and Grattan along with Argos, Toys’R’Us, and Betterware, when the man came. They’ve all gone now, though sometimes we have Cotton Traders if they think we need reminding that they are there.

The physical catalogues might have ceased to fill the cupboard, but the way of shopping remains. We’re online instead. Amazon has absolutely everything, just a click away. The anticipation of the catalogue parcel has been replaced by the excitement of the Prime van being only three stops away. Marks & Spencer has more appeal online than in store. I was recently disappointed to visit our branch and discover a shop reduced in size by closing off the top floor and carrying limited stock. The food hall was as bad. A wasted trip on my part.

We still get those mini-catalogues stapled into the TV listings magazines, the ones full of interesting gadgets that make me wonder how old I’ll be before I can’t manage without them. They go straight into the recycling.

Haiku for those long ago times,

A nice, grey school skirt
And a navy blue cardy
To start the new term.

Some smart white blouses
A pair of stirrup trousers
That’s what we called them.

Strap under the feet.
And socks and knickers and vests
And some pyjamas.

PMW 2023

Thanks for reading, Pam x