Saturday, 30 March 2013

In the mouse quiet of the house...

I stand and watch Lettice with collie
curiosity stare into our wildlife highway of a hedge.

Lettice a while ago... she's now greyer of face and deaf of ear

The meanest pricks of snow pepper her back, 
oblivious to all, she sniffs...
A rat, a too soon awakened hedgehog,
a passing squirrel perhaps?
All wildlife using our ancient hedge as Pilgrims Way
to a warmer Easter world.

Ted slumbers on; the table's laid:
while I wait I spread a piece of toast
with half Marmite and half Bovril,

in remembrance of my mother and father.
For the life of me I can't think why now, 
I remember them and am sad.
Was it the white feather on the stair last night, as I climbed ever higher
in our cottage of rooms on rooms?

A message from My Mum, my lovely mum
gone since 1971.
This morning a long forgotten memory springs back
of me going to a Happy, Hippy event
in London a few years ago.
(No surprise there LL!)
In an audience of hundreds I sat carefully listening to a
talk on angels...
I wanted to believe I really did.
However the more people that put their hands up and asked if this American woman could tell if they were accompanied by angels, the crosser I got.
I think mainly because the angels names got more and more wacky and far-fetched.
I could feel it building up inside as I glanced round at the exalted faces.
Before I knew it my hand shot up, smiling graciously she turned to me.

'I'm sorry but I think this is a load of codswallop and I can't bear to stay
a minute longer!'

Imagine the shock horror of all around me as I tried to
limbo-dance away without spoiling the moment of her other
I got to the door just as one of her acolytes gently grabbed my hand

'Your mother is your angel, you are safe in her hands!'
Shakily I wandered away...
Happy or sad I really couldn't say.

Just what was the significience of the spread on bread, when
all I remember of mum is
her love of Haig Dimple whisky and Hacks!
She always said
'If you want to live and thrive let a spider run alive.'
She died at the age of 48.
Her little theory didn't hold up; however I have never killed a spider, 
thinking always of her when I carefully scoop them up and free them from the bath.
Or more more honestly get Ted to do it for me!

My father's great saying was moderation in all things,
I often think of him when I apply butter to my toast with the help of
a builders trowel.



  1. I don't know why but special occasions make us melancholy and remember times gone by. We always used to have an Easter Sunday lunch with all the family at my mother's. My father carving a large turkey, home made trifle, happy happy days. Your mother left you far too soon Linda. It is funny how we continue these little habits we learnt from our parents. My father always used to squash his bread when he had toasted it, and I always do the same and it always brings a little thought of him each time I do it. I like it!! I do believe there is something, I call them signs, I have a lot of white feathers appear as if from nowhere. Happy Easter, not too many eggs mind!!! Moderation in everything!!!! Jayne x

    1. Wonder what funny little things we do our children will remember us by? How's things on the Granny front? All quiet?


  2. I do find Easter a melancholy time...and Marmite & Bovril certainly aren't going to help much!! ;)
    I think whomever had the angel was working overtime yesterday- I had a white feather on my shoulder when we sat down to eat last night.
    It's still where I placed it (gently) on the table.
    Don't need anyone to tell me names but I do believe they are around...and some of them are EXCEPTIONALLY good at finding you a parking place on a busy High Street!

    1. I'm just about to go up and see if the white feather I found on the stair is still by my bedside... It is! I placed it touching the two little china dogs I bought my mum from Woolies with pocket money of long ago.

      Ted's got that parking fairy, trouble is he won't lend her to me!


  3. I still miss both my parents, both were gone when I was in my early thirties. Special songs make me think of them. And I can remember my mum saying she missed her mum, it always feels sad. You're not alone LL, we know how you feel.
    Now on a more cheery note where can I buy those GOOD glasses? Right up my strasse.
    Jean xx

    1. It's funny Jean, no matter what age you are, whenever you're poorly all you want is your mum. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and kindness.


  4. I don't know about Angels but the longer they are gone the more I remember my Mum & Dad as kindly Saints. All that dotty, difficult and downright awkward behaviour is fading from my memory.

    1. Nilly, I know you are so right; why is it we only remember the good. Bit like the pain of childbirth, it dims on the arrival of this little bundle of joy!