The ancients, they look on through time. They see the world now and remember what it was like then. They are in the gargoyles, in statues, in faces in stone. They are hidden where they could find space. They may be thousands of years old but they do not last forever. As age wears them the ancient spirit wears away too. Look at that old stone head on the corner of the wall. It’s spirit is washing away with every bit of grit the rain wears away. See that old stone face on the plinth? Hands rub its bald head and gradually it dwindles.
Ancient memories dwindle too. Now there are moments of sunshine seen six hundred years ago which will not last much longer. There a remembrance of a lost husband or wife that was once strong but now veiled. Ancients seeing the world now are amazed at the destruction and damage. Trees that they have lived with cur down in an instant. Buildings they became part of ripped apart and turned to rubble.
Now the ancients share with younger spirits. To be a homeless ancient is to gradually disperse into the air and blow away on the wind. Long forgotten, never to be seen again.
I was bought up in the 1960s so although I was there I don’t remember a lot about the Beatles – I was too young.
But even now after over 50 years if a Beatles song comes on the radio or TV I can pretty much sing along with the lyrics.
I remember hearing them, some of my favourites are:
Love me do
Can’t buy me love
Eight days a week
There are others but I’m useless at remembering names of songs!
I loved their harmony, I loved their funny ways, I loved their experimental music as they evolved.
I’m just watching the Ron Howard documentary about them and it’s bringing a few memories back but as I say because I was a child I missed anything about them on late night TV so I’m learning a lot from the documentary.
The old school walls were damp and the paint was peeling off them. There were holes where ceiling tiles had fallen down and sunshine had broken through the roof.
She walked between discarded chairs, the tables were stacked against the walls. At the front of the classroom stood one of those rotating chalkboards. Grey with layers of chalk.
She reached out and pulled on the join between the boards but the thing was jammed up, no movement.
She remembered the first day she had taught here. Registration followed by the history of the celts. Teaching about Boudicca and the ancient Britons.
Nowadays children didn’t come to school. They were all home schooled, isolated, plugged in. Teaching was easy. Link to the local computer by an imput in the cranium. Download all the information, sit in a chair and learn the curriculum.
She remembered the sweet feeling of imparting knowledge The look of wonder when a pupil understood a new concept. Ideas flying from lips to ears to brains.
No more, no enthusiasm, just imput, data, no fun.
She sighed, closed the door to the classroom. She walked home.
I don’t remember anything after Saturday afternoon?
Who are you?
Where am I?
So many questions, I remember going to the park for a walk, I can see in my minds eye the youth on a motorbike, then I forget…. Its gone.
Who are you? A nurse? Who are they? My parents…..?
What did I do to get here?
Hello, yes I feel OK, just taking my pulse? My blood pressure….
Yes so you are my doctor?
There was a boy on a motorbike, I can see him in my minds eye. Where was that?
I need to sleep. Dreaming, remembering, she sees the park, the ducks running for the bread she was feeding them. The motorbike comes through the park gate, along the path, speeding, roaring. Breaks and skids to avoid the ducks and hits her hard….
Waking, the memory fades, she sees time reverse, only now she’s further down the path. The ducks are still on the lake. The sun is shining on her face. Heat. Her face is hot…..
Who am I?
Why am I here? I remembered, but then I forgot.
I did it again today,
Forgot my phone.
I didn’t have it with me
I’d put it down..
My mind was elsewhere
Just not here.
So I put it down
That phone has a camera
A way of seeing
And recording my life…
To add to an album
Of happiness or horror.
But without my phone
I am no one
Only memories to remember…….
I did these cards about a year ago. I had taken photos in a friends house because she wanted some home made cards.
If you would like to do something similar all you need I’d a thin black ink pen and acrylic paints thinned down to watercolour consistency. They work as well as watercolours and it saves having to find them out from whatever cupboard I’ve got them in!
I basically drew outlines then filled them in with the paints.
I’ve only done a few more of these. Maybe I will paint more in future.
This is a drawing of a railway line plan my husband drew in 1969 when he was about 16. He has always loved railways and was on the last steam train to leave Manchester Victoria station to Rochdale in 1968. He tells me this was a Stanier black 5 steam engine 460 (which means 4 leading wheels, 6 driving wheels and no trailing wheels).
He actually made the minature railway layout , including bushes and trees, a signal box and a station building and railway tracks on Triang 00 guage.
He had a Jinty 060 number 47606 3F class, an 040 diesel and a GWR single, Lord of the Isles. I guess any railway enthusiasts out there will understand this, but others won’t.
A Jinty was a nickname for a particular type of engine that did shunting, banking, pilot duties and local freight. This was a small type of engine which had a short wheelbase and could get round curves easily. It was designed by Sir John Fowler.
47606 is just its running number which identifies it. 3F means its power classification (3 freight).
040 diesel is a small dock shunter used by the sea or rivers to carry freight from ships.
A GWR single has a 422 wheel configuration. It’s classed as XP, (express) and could travel at 80 Miles an hour. It could pull up to 400 tons of passanger coaches ( 6 coaches including the guard’s van).
He has so much knowledge but its locked up in his mind. when I asked him it all came out, how do people learn all this stuff!?