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

Showing posts with label security. Show all posts
Showing posts with label security. Show all posts

Tuesday, 17 October 2023

The Glittering Prize - Meaningful Things

I have some works of art in my house. Some are on display, others are stored for safe keeping. They are items made by my children and grandchildren, presented to me with love and received with great delight. Some are glittery and shiny, others are not, but to me these special gifts are treasured prizes which fill me with joy. Being a grandparent is a little easier than being a parent, I have found, as the grandchildren usually – not always – go home, and I don’t have full responsibility for making important decisions about them. My glittering prizes are the children themselves, though if there is something precious, it is the teaspoon fashioned from tinfoil by my son when we forgot to take one on a picnic. It has a space in my display cabinet of meaningful things.


I was watching and listening to Sir Keir Starmer’s speech on TV at the recent Labour party conference. I was horrified to see someone get to him and pour gloopy looking glitter over his head and shoulders. Luckily, it was harmless, but how on earth did he get through security? He could have had a knife, a gun, anything. For one tiny moment, as the person was removed and Sir Keir removed his jacket, I wondered if the whole thing had been staged. I soon dismissed that thought. Not a glittering prize but a worrying moment.

One of my favourite modern day poet / writers is Lemn Sissay, MBE, former Chancellor of Manchester University. In 2021 he was appointed OBE for services to literature and charity. Last year he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. He is a trustee of the Foundlings Museum. Not bad going for someone who grew up in the care system, was treated unfairly by a family and repeated let down badly by social workers and social services at the time. He got justice eventually, but nothing could possibly compensate enough for his early life. Reading his memoir, ‘My Name Is Why’, broke my heart and I will salute his strength of character for evermore. He founded the charity Gold From the Stone Foundation which supports care leavers and every year provides Christmas dinners. His glittering prize is doing what he can to help others. Here is one of his quatrains,

‘How do you do it?’ said night.

‘How do you wake and shine?’

‘I keep it simple,’ said light.

‘One day at a time.’

Lemn Sissay  OBE, FRSL

  


Thanks for reading, Pam x

Tuesday, 26 October 2021

Hurly Burly - No Mall & No Builders!


As far as possible, I will avoid any commotion, hurly-burly and busy places, especially since I retired from work. Sometimes things happen and I find myself somewhere I’d rather not be with no immediate escape and I have to grin and bear it.

With the exception of Springfield Mall, Virginia – going back many years when such places were new to me – I don’t like shopping malls. Warm and dry on a cold, wet day they might be, but bustling and noisy does not give me a pleasant shopping experience. My friend and I once got lost trying to find a way out of Manchester Arndale. We rushed one way, then another, back-tracked, or thought we were, and eventually asked a security guard. By then we weren’t bothered which exit, we’d find our bearings outside and we did. When our daughter was about thirteen she wanted to go to the Trafford Centre for her birthday treat, shopping, lunch there, everything possible. We had to do it. Luckily, she loved it and enjoyed spending her birthday money, having the promised lunch, but it was all in the over-crowded, loud hullabaloo that made me want to scream. I might be the only person who doesn’t like the Trafford Centre. I can live with that. I would probably hate Springfield these days.

It doesn’t stop at shopping malls. I can’t cope with having workmen in at home. Running repairs are alright and our usual heating engineer is very welcome when it’s time to service the boiler. Workmen with a capital W means builders and a team of them, taking over and making a mess, making a noise, either voices or machinery. As the family grew and more space was needed, it seemed like a good idea to have extensions here, there and everywhere which meant weeks of disruption. The end results were worth it. The house we move into will be staying exactly as we find it.

This Dr John Cooper Clarke poem reminds me of being lost in the hurly-burly of a pre-Christmas Arndale Centre,

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

Daily Bugle – Front Page News

A drunken posse on a booze cruise

Swear me in I got nothing to lose

High five – low morale

Trouble aye trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

I heard about it at the Taj Mahal

I nearly choked on me Taka Dahl

I quizzed Chief Wiggum and he said, “Waal

Cuff ‘em boys – trouble at the Mall”

 

Tripe stand bloody fell over

Its covered the place in a beefy odour

Better take a nosegay pal

Trouble aye trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

Bury my heart at Clinton Cards

Remember me to the old guard

These days you just gotta be hard

Because like they say in this here locale

Trouble aye trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall

 

H & M is full of flunkies

And Tony and Guy couldn’t give a monkey’s

In the dying words of Gore Vidal

‘Appen it’s trouble aye

Trouble @ t’Mall


JCC


Thanks for reading, Pam x