Today’s #bandofsketchers prompt was monument. I was going to draw the Duke of Sutherlands monument near Trentham Gardens. But then I came across this stone I painted as a memorial to my cat about fifteen years ago. This bought back memories of a lovely intelligent cat. Must repaint it.
Who shall I speak to? Will they listen to me? So many questions to ask.
She stood in front of the microphone and wished she had written the thoughts down. She had known she would have to speak at the funeral, but had shied away from her obligation. The death of her friend had been a shock. He was only 60 when he passed away. She remembered an old boss of hers telling her off. They don’t pass away or pass on, they die said the woman.
No, she would say pass on. She would say sadly missed. She would say that his passing had left a hole in many lives. She had not seen much of him recently. Things had been bleak, people were not going out as much as they had. A cough could be enough to panic friends into staying away.
The funeral was only sparsely attended. The few people that were there were well separated. Women wore veils over dark coloured masks, the men wore cravats and masks. Good old fashion design getting involved in the workings of life and death. Things had to be chic.
So many questions to ask and then try and answer. She would struggle for words. But she would manage it.
Photos from an old album. They were taken forty years ago. They won’t mean anything to anyone except me. They are old memories. Of winter when snow fell deep. When I lived in a flat. When the underfloor heating woukd blow out in a strong wind and me and my friends would be very cold till it was fixed.
It also has memories of when the skyline of the city was simpler, when some of the houses still stood. The colours are strange because I always used 400 iso film. That and the misty murk makes it look very gloomy despite the snow. So much has changed since then. No tape recorders or cassette tapes. No black and white TV’s. Even videos seem to have come and gone. Computers were only just being introduced. Yes my memory goes back a long way.
I remember a tree that seemed to have a face, and used to scare me when I was a child. There were knot holes where branches had broken off that looked like a face. I remember watching the Wizard of Oz and seeing the wicked witch. For some reason the tree and the witch were linked in my mind. I know I used to walk home through the park sometimes, but I wouldn’t go down that path if it was getting dark.. I also remember walking on the top of an old stone wall, balancing on the top of it, pretending to be a gymnast…. This was over forty years ago. When I look at photos of the park it has a lot more civilised appearance!
I found this in the front bedroom while having a clear out. It’s the photo I used to base a painting of my old cat on. Looking up the stairs at the window. It’s great to find it, it brings back great memories of a very friendly intelligent cat. She used to like sitting in the sun on the windowledge. She would sit there in the mornings until the sun moved round to the other side of the house, then she would move to the bedroom window, or she would come downstairs and go out into the garden. Good memories.
Forty years ago, here are two of my friends who I shared a student house with. Unlike the accommodation today things were different then. It’s like something out of ‘the young ones’ TV series. There was no hot water, just a broken water heater. I hate to say this but there was no bathroom and we used the showers at the college. The washing machine was an old twin tub. Our cooker was gas, but there was no gas fire. Instead we just had a coal fire to warm the whole house. And the toilet was down the yard in an outhouse.
We moved on into a slightly less tumble down house, finished college, and ended up in our own house. But I actually enjoyed life in that house. X
I was talking to a friend earlier about her valentine experiences and remembered an incident from about thirty years ago…
It was a cold, clear Valentines day morning. I’d got up to go to work, and as I stepped outside I found a red rose on my doorstep. It wasn’t wrapped in cellophane or paper. It was a long stemmed rose. Deep scarlet. Beautiful, slightly starting to wilt. I looked up and down the street, no one around. We were in a terraced house, so the door opened down a step straight onto the pavement. Anyone could have left it there.
I went inside and asked my then boyfriend, later to be hubby, if he had put it on the step. But he said no. I quizzed him, but no it was not him. To be honest it wasn’t his style, he rarely knows when it’s valentines day and usually only gets me a card if I get him one. He was as surprised as I was but said I should take it as a compliment!
So I had this beautiful rose. I cut the stem at an angle and it in a pint glass while I went out to do my shift at work.
But I couldn’t concentrate. All morning I thought about who could have left it? It might have been a neighbour. It might have been a friend, but I had no idea that anyone had romantic thoughts about me. My inner Miss Marple told me that it couldn’t have been there long and that it must have been bought from the nearby florists as no roses were in flower at that time of year. There are roses growing on the factory opposite our house, but they were bare stems.
Who? That was my thought. Whoever it was must have known I was in a long term relationship? Why? Did they think I was looking for someone new? The answer to that was no….
Eventually I decided that the rose must have been for someone else. Perhaps the anonymous person had mistaken my doorstep for someone else’s?
I will never know. It never happened again. The next year I felt disappointed. Since then I have rarely remembered it. Only today’s chat reawakened the memory for me.