Rocking Chair

Call me a softy if you like, ‘The Woman in Black’ is the scariest film I’ve ever tried to watch. I’ve had a few attempts. One was at the cinema with my daughter. I think she begged me to take her, only to discover how fearful it is.

 “Tell me when it’s gone,” she whispered.

“I can’t, I’m not looking.” I had no idea what ‘it’ was.

There’s a particularly creepy scene concerning a room full of clockwork monkeys playing musical instruments and an empty rocking chair, rocking. Too spooky and reminds me of something chilling my son said when he was little.

I have my grandfather’s rocking chair, I’ve probably mentioned it before because it is special item and means a lot to me. I remember him with fondness, gently rocking as he read the paper or his book, often sharing an orange with me when I was a child. After he died, the chair was untouched in the house he’d shared with my aunt since he was widowed. My sister had children before me and I think our aunt gave her the rocking chair to nurse her first baby. When I bought my house, the chair came to me and for a while, it was the only furniture I had to sit on. It moved with me when I got married and had a special place in the back room. I don’t know if our son, a young child at the time, was teasing when he told me that he’d seen the rocking chair rocking on its own. The thought of it gave me shivers. I felt sure I would be aware if there was anything odd. Over the years, the chair began to look tatty. Covering it with a throw and a cushion wasn’t enough. I had it repaired and recovered, and moved it into my bedroom.

As for ‘The Woman in Black’, I’m told by a friend that the stage play is more scary than the film. I can’t imagine that, but I’ll accept the opinion without the need to see for myself.

Robert Service had the right idea,

My Rocking-chair

When I am old and worse for wear
I want to buy a rocking-chair,
And set it on a porch where shine
The stars of morning-glory vine;
With just beyond, a gleam of grass,
A shady street where people pass;
And some who come with time to spare,
To yarn beside my rocking-chair.
Then I will light my corn-cob pipe
And dose and dream and rarely gripe.
My morning paper on my knee
I won't allow to worry me.
For if I know the latest news
Is bad,-to read it I'll refuse,
Since I have always tried to see
The side of life that clicks with glee.

And looking back with days nigh done,
I feel I've had a heap of fun.
Of course I guess that more or less
It's you yourself make happiness
And if your needs are small and few,
Like me you may be happy too:
And end up with a hope, a prayer,
A chuckle in a rocking-chair.

Robert Service

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Three Days That Changed The World

I've ducked out of writing about an obvious three days that changed the world - the crucifixion to the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth - partly because I have a problem with the idea of the resurrection, and partly because the dates themselves are an irresolvable point of contention. The events, which it can be argued gave rise to a great world religion (as evidenced by global acts of remembrance this week-end), happened around the time of the Jewish Festival of Passover, in early April between the years AD 29 and AD 34. No scholarly research has an irrefutable claim to be more precise than that. 

I've chosen instead to highlight a different and more recent three days that changed the world, namely The Beatles' appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show. We can be precise about those dates: not three consecutive days, but three consecutive Sundays: 9th, 16th and 23rd February 1964. In light of John Lennon's 'infamous' remark from a couple of years later of The Beatles being "more popular than Jesus now" (more on that below), I thought it an interesting parallel to draw.

The Ed Sullivan Show aired on CBS every Sunday night and was at the time the most popular American entertainment programme with an average audience of 24 million viewers. Brian Epstein, manager of The Beatles, knew that if his group was to 'break' America, then exposure on the medium of the moment was necessary. The Beatles' early singles had not taken off in the States. EMI's US subsidiary had passed on the opportunity to release them. 'Love Me Do' got ignored completely and 'Please Please Me', 'From Me To You' and 'She Loves You' were licenced out to small independent labels and sank without trace. 

Finally Epstein managed to persuade EMI's subsidiary Capitol to release the next one 'I Want To Hold Your Hand' at the end of 1963 as a lead-in to the television appearances he had negotiated. By the beginning of February 1964 'I Want To Hold Your Hand' had hit the top of the US charts and a week later The Beatles were performing live on the Ed Sullivan Show to an estimated audience of 73 million people (nearly half the viewing nation) - a ratings record and a generation-defining event. Urban myth has it that crime statistics for the night were the lowest for years. Their second appearance the following Sunday attracted nearly as big an audience of 71 million viewers and those two programmes are still in the top three all time tv audiences in the USA, being surpassed only in 1983 by the final episode of M*A*S*H. The third appearance on 23rd February didn't draw quite so big an audience as by then half the teenagers in the country were in their garages forming Beatle-inspired pop groups! 

The Beatles as first seen by millions on US tv screens

That last point was not an entirely facetious one. In the wake of the shock of President Kennedy's assassination less than three months earlier, the USA had been in something akin to a collective depression, a state of mourning and disorientation that sucked the joy out of life and sapped the nation's natural optimism. Those appearances by The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show single-handedly (OK, eight-handedly) gave the country its joy back, lifting not just teen spirits from coast to coast. The nation went into catch-up mode and within a month The Beatles held the top five spots in the US Billboard singles chart (those earlier 45s finally getting airplay and sales), another record that's never been broken. Young Americans did form bands directly as a result of seeing The Beatles. They also got caught up in the whirlwind of Beatlemania, bought the merchandise, grew their hair, became less parochial in outlook, and made almost a religion out of their fascination with the group and its music - and that embrace of The Beatles by America was what catapulted them to global fame and changed the world for the better in the process. So had they really become "more popular than Jesus"?

What John Lennon actually said, in an interview with Maureen Cleave of the Evening Standard in March 1966, was: "Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn't argue about that; I'm right and I'll be proved right. We're more popular than Jesus now; I don't know which will go first - rock'n'roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me." His remarks were mis-quoted and misinterpreted in the American press which led to a series of Beatle-record bonfire events in the southern bible belt at the start of the group's final US tour, a temporary blip on their staggering rise to unparalleled planetary fame and popularity.

Okay, in complete contrast to the happy vibe of Beatlemania, I offer my second poem catalysed by the wicked war being waged by Putin in Ukraine - another event with a claim to having changed the world in the last few weeks.

Of all the Ukrainian cities Putin has targeted to date, the southern Black Sea port of Mariupol has been the hardest hit, pounded relentlessly by Russian artillery and surrounded by advancing Russian troops. The majority of its buildings have been destroyed, the civilian population has been living for weeks in cellars and basements, without electricity or running water. Thousands have been allowed to flee along occasional humanitarian corridors and the stories they tell are heart-rendingly awful. Thousands more have been killed in what clearly constitutes the worst war crime in Europe since WW II. Thousands remain trapped, starving, facing an uncertain fate in what has been described as "hell on earth"  Ukrainian forces have been holding out bravely but are short of ammunition and it is feared Mariupol is about to be the first city since the invasion to fall into Russian control. 

bullet-riddled Mariupol city sign

It is very hard for us to comprehend the evil that can foist such suffering and devastation on innocent people. It is equally difficult for us to imagine the depth of fear and misery that living through war entails. The horror is so vast it's not easy to get to grips with. So the poem focuses right down on a few specifics as befits this week-end, and in doing so seeks for a shaft of something positive in the bleakness. 

Easter In Mariupol

No eggs this Easter in Maria's city, 

not a chicken left alive. And God,

where is he to be found today? In

the thin smile of a starving child

clutching a dirty rag rabbit? Maybe,

for innocence has a power to touch

even a steely heart toting an AK-74,

a soldier and orphan holding hands

in the starkness of this earthly hell.

Hope treads on fragments of shells.

As a musical Easter egg, here's a link to Julian Lennon singing his father's famous song for the first time in public recently at a concert for Ukraine. Click on the title to play: Imagine

Thanks as ever for reading my stuff, S ;-)

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Days That Changed the World - WWW

30^th April 1993, a very significant date that I was unaware of until I looked it up. CERN, which is the French acronym for the European Council for Nuclear Research, put the World Wide Web software in the public domain. Since then, we’ve all been just a click away from more or less everything.  A day that changed the world.

As the level of technology progressed, the equipment for its use gradually became smaller in size. Computers nearly 60 centimetres deep and needing a massive processor, both filling a purpose built desk and taking up lots of office space – or half a room in our house – has reduced to the average smart phone. We have the whole world in our hands.

I love books and our house is full of them, but I can’t help but feel a bit sorry for a shelf full of pristine volumes of Encyclopaedia Britannica when I’m ‘Googling’ things. The information I want is right there, with links to connected interests. I can’t imagine being without the internet, or my mobile phone, not now.

I wasn’t going to bother having a mobile phone. I didn’t need one for myself. My husband got one and we’d share it while we were away. We could let family know we had arrived safely after an epic drive to Pembrokeshire and we were settling in nicely. That phone turned out to be a God-send, keeping us in touch with family when my mother-in-law, also away on holiday, had taken ill and was in hospital. It was just a phone, what else would you want? Soon, the sky was the limit.

I did get my own phone, a basic phone, oh, I think text messaging was possible, too. I wouldn’t leave home without it. The next best thing was a camera on the phone. Digital, of course. Easy to download snaps of a day out on to the PC or laptop – yes, I’d got one of those by now. It wasn’t long before I’d agreed to a mobile contract with an all singing, all dancing phone, with camera, internet data, bells and whistles. Me, who didn’t want all this ‘crazy stuff’, to start with, now had up to date modern technology in my handbag, at my fingertips.

I missed it when it wasn’t there, though it was good to ‘click off’ for a while. There was no internet and no phone signal where we regularly stay in Scotland – until recently. We would stop the car at the top of the lane, last chance for a signal, before going down to the lodge. There would be no more contact until an early morning dog walk back up the hill to check for messages. It was good to relax, no interruption. It is different now. WiFi arrived. The lodges have upgraded to smart televisions and internet routers. We’ve all moved with the times.

I send emails to the USA with immediate arrival when previously a snail-mail letter would take days.

It is all good until there’s the dreaded system failure. When this happened at work, those of us who remembered how we did it before technology sharpened our pencils and our wits and got on with it. Not easy in a fully computerised dental practice. Fortunately the occurrence was rare and promptly rectified.

World Wide Web changed the world, brought it closer, and changed the way we do things. It is the way we are.

I found this poem by Dr Wayne Visser,

Change the World

Let’s change the world, let’s shift it
Let’s shake and remake it
Let’s rearrange the pieces
The patterns in the maze
The reason for our days
In ways that make it better
In shades that make it brighter
That make the burden lighter
Because it’s shared, because we dared
To dream and then to sweat it
To make our mark and not regret it
Let’s plant a seed and humbly say:
I changed the world today!

Let’s change the world, let’s lift it
Let’s take it and awake it
Let’s challenge every leader
The citadels of power
The prisoners in the tower
The hour of need’s upon us
It’s time to raise our voices
To stand up for our choices
Because it’s right, because we fight
For all that’s just and fair
For a planet we can share
Let’s join the cause and boldly say:
We’ll change the world today!

Let’s change the world, let’s love it
Let’s hold it and unfold it
Let’s redesign the future
The fate of earth and sky
The existential why
Let’s fly to where there’s hope
To where the world is greener
Where air and water’s cleaner
Because it’s smart to make a start
To fix what we have broken
Our children’s wish unspoken
Let’s be the ones who rise and say:
We changed the world today!

Wayne Visser © 2018

 Thanks for reading, Pam x

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My Fantasy Dinner Party Guests - A Good Time To Be Had By All

It would be wonderful to have friends and family round. A gathering in the garden on a warm afternoon, children running riot, adults laughing, sharing jokes, happy and relaxed with drinks flowing, buffet table groaning under the weight and ice-lollies in the freezer. I wonder if we’ll ever have times like that again. When my spirits dip and I’m feeling low I’m inclined to think that’s it, we’ve had it, life will never be the same. Scotland is a border we’ll never cross again. When my spirits lift and thoughts are positive, I imagine a garden party close to my husband’s birthday in June. Covid will be contained enough for us to enjoy freedom. I feel privileged to have had my first vaccination, a joy of being a frontline keyworker. I’m thankful for each day seeing us healthy.

In the absence of any social gatherings, tea dances or drinks on the lawn, let’s have some fun and pretend.

The setting for my dinner party is important. It would not be here at my house, I think we’d need more space, and I am not cooking. Forty years ago I was a lunch guest at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. The dining room was breathtakingly splendid. Shell pink table linen with a fresh, single rose the exact same colour on every perfectly set table and attentive staff seeing to every need, well nearly. I lost my way looking for the Ladies room and ended up in the hotel hair salon, where they allowed me to use theirs then someone kindly took me back to the dining room. Background music, if it is fine to call it that, came from Michel Legrand playing the piano more softly than he normally would. I think he was running through his score in preparation for the evening, not there for us, but it was very welcome. I was very impressed with the Waldorf Astoria. Being there was the highlight of my stay in New York and I nearly chose to host my fantasy dinner party in the same dining room, but it missed out to The Selkirk Arms in Kirkcudbright.

Well, you know me and Scotland, so how could I not choose such a place? The dining room is the right size for my gathering, I love it and I believe it was frequented by my guest, Robert Burns. Perhaps he’ll tell me if he wrote The Selkirk Grace here, and, if he’s in good humour, he might entertain us after dinner with songs and poems.

I couldn’t have a dinner party without inviting Robert Peston. If you know me, no explanation is necessary. Anyway, he’ll be sitting next to me, where I can pick his brains. My husband will be on my other side and next to him will be Becky Barr. He’ll be delighted.

Girl power from strong minded, northern women, Barbara Castle, Emmeline Pankhurst and my great-grandmother Mary who died when I was four, but I really want to talk to her and find out how she coped.

I have to invite Alan Bennett, how I love his work, what a wordsmith. I have a hardback copy of Untold Stories, a birthday gift years ago. When it comes to wordsmiths, John Cooper Clarke is up there with the best. I’ve just finished reading I Wanna Be Yours. The genius Victoria Wood, a hardworking perfectionist who gave us so much and had more to give, I’m sure, but her life was cut short.

Someone else who’s life was cut short, my mum. Please come to my dinner party, we need to catch up, but do not tell me off in front of my friends.

We’ll need some music, besides Rabbie giving us a song, so I invite John Lodge, his wife and the other Moody Blues band members. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else. Have dinner first, of course. And everybody, mingle.

I was really looking forward to this dinner party. What a shame it’s pure fantasy, but imagine the mix of characters and what a memorable night it would be. When I was looking for a poem, I wanted something light-hearted and amusing and found it with Pam Ayres, and she's using a couple of words not normally associated with her. Go girl!  This is exactly what would happen if I tried to organise a dinner party at home.

The Dinner Party

It seemed like such a good idea, a flash of inspiration,
To hold a dinner party! Yes, out went the invitations,
A proper dinner party too, traditional and smart,
With all my oldest, dearest friends, the darlings of my heart.

We’d clear the dining table of each dog-eared magazine,
We’d dust around the skirting board, the place would be pristine,
We’d pick up all the clutter, drive the hoover round the floor,
And see again our carpet after eighteen months or more.

I’d plan a lovely menu, seven courses at the least,
An absolute abundance, an ambrosia, a feast!
With table linen matching and the candles burning bright,
What a celebration! What a banquet! What a night!

Yeah. Well.

That was then and this now, and one thing’s very clear,
I can’t imagine why I thought this was a good idea,
Today’s the day, tonight’s the night, they’ll be here in an hour,
I’m absolutely shattered and I haven’t had a shower.

I haven’t chilled the wine or put the nibbles in a bowl,
I found my silver cutlery, it’s all as black as coal,
I haven’t found the candles, we are making do with these,
One’s a stump and one is bent at forty-five degrees.

I haven’t folded napkins in sophisticated shapes,
Or beautified a plate of cheese with celery and grapes,
I haven’t spent the morning on a floral centrepiece,
And I’m skidding round the kitchen floor on half an inch of grease.

My husband’s disappeared, I don’t know where he’s hiding now,
He hasn’t helped at all, we’ve had a monumental row,
I don’t know where the day is gone, and I am filled with dread,
Forget the conversation, I just want to go to bed.

The guests I thought were witty, their attractiveness has palled,
The men, once so enticing, now they’re boring and they’re bald,
The women are all shadows of their former vibrant selves,
They’re all in sizes twenty-four, they used to be in twelves.

I stupidly asked George, I used to think him quite a card,
Not meaning to be spiteful, now he’s just a tub of lard,
He’ll bring his lovely wife, she’ll tell you all about her back,
One’s morbidly obese and one’s a hypochondriac.

I haven’t found the coffee cups, we’ll have to have the mugs,
The crumble’s looking soggy and the kale was full of slugs,
The meat is a disaster, undercooked and full of blood,
The dog’s pooed on the carpet and I haven’t done the spuds.

I thought I’d like to do this, but I don’t know where to start,
I thought I’d like to see them, but I’ve had a change of heart,
Their old recycled stories and voracious appetites,
Forget the darlings of my heart, they’re all a bunch of shites.

I meant to be the glam hostess but kiss goodbye to that,
I haven’t changed my frock, I smell attractively of fat,
I’ve done my best, it’s all gone west, I’ve ruined all the grub,
Too late. Here come the bastards now. Let’s all go down the pub.

                                                                                 Pam Ayres

Thanks for reading, stay safe and keep well, Pam x

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