You took my hand, held it tightly. Dragged me up the hill to the viewpoint.
We stared across the tree tops, across the views of hills and valleys. There were old houses and modern warehouses where there used to be fields. It’s gone, you said, our youth and the beauty that was once here.
Remember when we had strength? When hills were virtually flat? When colours were bright and gaudy.
The trees were shorter then, we could see further. We used to hold hands and more. Now, we are lost, can our hearts stay forever together? The hill is steep nowadays. But we walk hand in hand.
Sunshine, a stick of rock, sandy beach, bucket and spade to make sandcastles. The cool feeling of wet sand as you wiggle your toes in it…or the hard ridges of sand rippled by shallow water. Memories of collected shells, long thin razor shells, cockle shells, mussels, spirals and smooth. So many types.
All these memories were made on various holidays and day trips to beaches, looking out over the sea, walking through seaweed that littered beaches, sand flies and sand hoppers.
Remembering catching various trains, some of them were steam trains. Watching the countryside fly by, a river running on one side of the train, then the other. The train running past the caravan site we stayed at.
Sunshine, rain, home made cooking in the caravan on a tiny stove. Sleeping on a bed made of boards and cushions where the table had stood. Gas mantles that hissed when mom lit the lights at night.
The tiny crab that escaped from my plastic bucket and spade and hid in my shoe… And it’s pincers snapping on my little toe!
Memories and the wish to make more. Missing the seaside.
Creating strange images. Floating objects. Buildings not held down by gravity. Defying the laws of physics, playful, a rocket, chimney, identified flying object. Old tiles and bricks badly laid. Clouds cracking to let the blue sky through. Can I see faces or animals in them. Your choice.
One of my cats kittens from three years ago, popped up on my Facebook page a few weeks ago. She was rehomed with her sister and they are grown up and happy. We are thinking about taking in another adult stray cat, but he needs checking over at the vets, and my male cat is going to the vets for treatment in the morning. Life is complicated. Then if my cat is OK I need to find out about treatment, tablets, worst case scenario.
17.4.20, after I had drawn for thirty days with Stoke Urban Sketchers, and I guess at that stage I thought we wouldn’t be in lockdown for long. Our government, and in particular our prime minister was giving out optimistic press conferences saying that we should be able to get over it pretty lightly. I think he even said it was like some sort of flu? Of course things didn’t go that well for us, and now over 42 thousand people have died from covid 19 in the UK. Its almost like the government thought we would be immune with our “stiff upper lips” and “gung-ho” mentality. Clearly they were wrong.
So here we are. How many more drawings will I do before it’s safe to go out properly and not just dash to the shops to get essentials. Who knows when that will be?
Six months after this image was taken, and the garden is in full growth. The cherries on the tree are swelling and lichen is growing on the tree.
Life runs in cycles. Soon the height of summer will be with with us. I hope it isn’t too hot. I don’t do heat. Maybe lockdown will end. Hopefully the virus will be bought under control. Only a small percentage of people have died out of earth’s massive population, but that doesn’t make the pandemic any less devastating. Maybe it’s time to think back and remember all those people who have died. Stay safe.
The door stands in the way. But I can hear people outside, running along the pavement, downhill, then up. A couple of car doors slam. An engine starts, quietly. I want to look out, but the door is firmly locked. It’s late. I could look out of the window, but that means parting the curtains, giving the game away.
A little later…. All is calm again, the mad thunder of feet has receded, I heard my bin lid thud down, but I’m not going to look. Possibly an old beer can? It’s happened before.
I don’t really like living with my front door on the pavement. I wish we had a front garden. There is a garden at the side of our house,iit’s ours, full of trees and bushes. Local people dump beer cans and fag packets in our hedge. Life, and people, have been quieter lately. But if I was put on a desert island I would be OK.
I spoke too soon, cars (with people in) crashing down their gears, rushing to get up the hill. Sometimes they seem to race each other.
If, and when the lockdown ends, I will have to get used to people again.
In other parts of the city there have apparently been large congregations of people, playing house music late into the night to celebrate VE day. People are so badly informed and they are clearly not thinking about social distancing and their own and their families safety.
But it’s been all quiet down our street for most of the day and evening.
However the people round the back of our house had an argument earlier on. My hubby could hear them (and he’s very deaf). I was inside so didn’t hear it. I’m wondering if we should have rung the police. It’s worrying what is going on behind closed doors.
I wanted to avoid VE day. There were so many deaths, so much sadness as well as the rejoicing.
I think lockdown needs to continue. We need to take it seriously. And don’t start me on Brexit!