Love Is In Da Blog: Granparents

Juat  fooling  around  with Bee said :No matter where your experience comes from with your grandparents allow yourself today to delve into your memories of your grandparents and let them come alive for us. Chose any way or form you like and I am looking forward to read your posts.

Grandparents

I only  remember  meeting   one  set  of grandparents  and on only  one  occaision. I  believe  it  was  my  mother’s  parents  as  we had  gone  to Oxford  to see  them. The  house as I see it in my  mind  was dark, brown painwork  and cream walls. No  doubt  all my  brothers  and sisters  who are older  than  me  will be throwing  their hands up  in shock  but  in all honesty  that  is  the impression  I have  to this  day.

Unfortunately for  me the  situation was going to get worse. I remember  sitting  on  a chair  and not  being  quite  high  enough  to reach  the table. The  dinner  was chicken, boiled chiken.To  this  day I hate  boiled  chicken, I did not  want  to eat  it , I did not  want  to smell it….. I still  don’t.

I cannot  be sure  but  I  think I  got into big  trouble for  being naughty  and not  wanting  to eat  my  dinner.Sadly  that is  the only  memory I have  of my real  grandparents.

Luckily  for  me  I  have  wonderful  memories  of Oxford. Aunty  Glad  and Uncle  Jack, they  were  the grandparents  to  my  cousin Lyndy ( who  was actually  my  cousin’s  daughter  but I  did not  clock on to  that  until I was older). Uncle Jack  was  my Mothers  brother he  was  a round  and happy  chap and  Aunty  Glad  was a thin  and wiry little  lady. I remember  there  was always  two  weeks in the summer holidays  when I was sent  to stay  with them all. I loved  have  my  cousin  on hand, Lyndy  was an only  child of a  single  Mum, and I was  the youngest  of  six  by  ten years  so we were almost both like only  children, and so  close in age  ( My Mum  having  me  in her late  forties  and  my  cousin  having  Lyndy when she was still  very young. ) We had a whale  of  a time . I remember playing out  late, something I could only  do in the garden at  home on  my  own but  at Lyndy’s we played in the street and with her  friends.

Aunty Glad had  what seemed like a huge  field of  a  garden  with  gooseberry  bushes  and rasberries and I remember  helping Uncle  Reg  pick  the fruit and  preparing  them in the kitchen with Aunty Glad! I loved  sharing  a room with Lyndy  we used  to talk and  plan  the  next  days excitement.

Lyndy  use  to spend  the other  two weeks of  the holidays  with  me up  in London. I  know  she loved staying  with us  in our  small and often crowded  house. I  think  Uncle  Reg  and Aunty Glad were  more  like grandparents  to  me  because  by  the  time I was able  to apreciate  them,  all mine  were dead.

Now  my Mum  also  had  two  very  good friends one of  whom was Aunty Betty. A wonderful  woman who  never  stopped  talking  at  great  speed. She  was a tall woman  and had a heart  of  gold. She  was married  to Uncle  Dick  who was a quiet man of  medium stature. He  too was lovely. My Mum and Aunty  Betty  where childhood friends and were bridesmaids  to each  other.

They  had a huge house, they  let one  floor out to students  from the Universities.  I always remember  there  was a bathroom in the  dinning  room! Yes it was strange  a  huge wood  and  glass erection  with  curtains. The  sides of  the walls did not reach  the ceiling …OH! it  was strange! Aunty  Betty  taught me  how  to bake  and make  lemonade, knit and hundreds of  other  things.

I used  to share a  room at  the top of  the house with Aunty Betty’s  only daughter who  was ten years older than me  and I thought  she was so glamourous ( there hangs a story  but not  for now or  even on this blog). The  best thing about  the room was  the view from the window in the eves I could  see all of  the Oxford  Spires  and in late sun , moonlight  or even sunrise they did  glitter. Right in the centre of  the  view  was Old Tom  the bell tower. I loved  to hear  his chimes.

Sadly now Uncle Dick, Aunty  Betty are  long gone. Their  Daughter is  somewhere in America  she cut  herself  off  from us  all.

My Mum was not  very  well when I was  a child  which  one  of  the reasons  for  my  Summer  and Easter  Holidays in Oxford.  Mum was in hospital  more  than once  and often during  school time. Now  I could  not  go  to Oxford  and miss  school however  much I  would of  liked to. So I went  half a  mile  up  the road  and around  the corner  to  stay  with Aunty George! Her real name was Anne  but  for some reason  she was called Aunty George. Now  she  and Mr George and  their  three  grown up  children  lived in a  beautiful house very similar  to the one  pictured  here!

Whenever I had  to stay there I slepped in the  girls  room and  the  girls  who  were in the upper  and lower  sixth  at  the school I was attending  though I was in the  junior part  of  the school, would take  me to and from school on the bus!

Aunty George  had  a huge  kitchen and a scullery, she  even had a twintub washing  machine! We did not have a washing machine of  any type in our  house. It was a lovely  house  and they were lovely  people. I used to love  going to  church  with the girls on Sunday. They  were in the choir and I joined  too. I loved  to sing and to hear  the two girls beautiful  voices.

Memories, I  may not of  known my  own grandparents  but I had  plenty  of  surrogates!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly Grandparent Haiku

Glad  to help  and teach

To step in and fill the breach

Loving  memories

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a thought I pray I  get the chance  to be a good grandma to my Newbie

 

This  is  Just  fooling  around  with  Bee  Idea  for  a  February  daily  challenge! To  suit  her  spoilt  inner  child…. and  mine  come  to that so  here  we go! Hold on to your heart!  Join in  here 

 

 

 

1000 Voices Speak For Compassion: What is Compassion

1000 Voices Speak For Compassion

Yvonne Spencer mentioned this idea to me in a tweet this week. This is the question she posed after ruminating on some of the troubles blighting the world today.

How cool would it be if we could get 1000 bloggers on the same day to write posts about compassion, kindness, support, caring for others, non-judgement etc.? (Date to be decided.[it’s suggested 20th February 2015])
We could call it 1000 Voices For Compassion.
Who’s in?

Well I am. Here’s a a link  to Yvonne’s Blog and post  here 

What is compassion?

It is the capacity to want to help others, to feel for others. It is in short what should separate us from the animals. Sadly compassion seems to be spread very thin these days. Thousands starving and dying of thirst, disease and  war. What are we doing, we turn down our TVs and look away. They even have a name for this, Charity Fatigue.

Comfort me in  my  hour of need

Open your eyes and ears to me take heed

Mindfulness is needed here in the world

Pain and grief are like weapons  hurled.

All the  woes of  this vale of tears

Scream loudly in our ears

Sacred heart  give us hope

In you we trust , help us  cope.

OH! help us  to help each other

Now in our hour of need to love our sister and brother.

__________________________________

I do  not  know  who  this  man is but  I have used his  face more  than once when  writing  about  compassion. There  is  something  in his  eyes that  reach out  telling  his  story pain, grief  rejection it is  all there!

I used  his  face  last  at Christmas while I was  talking  about  Crisis at Christmas .  Crisis is  the National Charity  for single  hopeless people. They  are dedicated  to  helping  people  and  giving  them a chane  to change  their life’s for the better, to give  them hope.

The  Charity  works  all year  round of  course  but  they  also do  Crisis at Christmas.  Volenteers spend a  fortnight  cooking  for , providing  a  warm place  to stay  for those  lost and lonely people. They  give  them new  clothes , a  hair cut  if  they want  and  also help  them  to change  their  lives if  they  want  to. They  help  with  finding somewhere  to live  or a job  interview .

They  show  real  compassion  they  help  and  they are unpaid and  they  really  make  a  difference.

Jen, she was cheeky girl always having fun

Staying out late and playing up in the end it got too much for her mum!

After a big row one night  in the summer she asked Jen to go,

So she is struggling along out here now,

When you are homeless it is amazing how fast your friends all go.

Rob,  well his story is very sad,

It all started with his drinking then he discovered drugs

He became violent and everything turned bad.

He fell out with his mother’s boyfriend who told him he had to go

And then threw him out into the January snow.

The reasons are legion you can take your pick,

People  who  loose  their jobs  because  they became  sick

From parents who can’t cope

To addictions that make you loose all hope,

Parents or family who beat you, family who will not stop at a touch

They want, you to give them, it all gets way too much.

______________________________________

Mess in the alley

It’s finally stopped raining but your jeans are soaking wet

and if it were not for the tricks men make you turn you’d be worried about the cold that you could get.

The day is nearly over descending in to grey

you’re better off staying here now you are already wet and they need not see for what they pay.

You are feeling very twitchy it is hours since your last fix

your stomach is turning somersaults and your mood is between and betwixt.

You watch people passing the end of your little patch

some with shopping some with children all with lives you’d love to snatch.

School children walking home ipods in their ears

you pick up their discarded cigarettes and wistfully long for their, undone homework fears.

Life is so simple for them and some are older than you.

They would spill their guts and run a mile had they had to do some of the things you do.

If you did not feel so dizzy you really would stand up you need to tart your face up and put on a smile

the punters will be out soon soyou need to be ready in a while.

You hope and pray that you can score tonight the cramps are getting worse

and your legs are not up to running so there is no point in pinching some old dears purse.

You marvel at the fact that these men will still use you,

you look a mess and smell even worse but still you thank God that they do.

Why is your head thumping, you’ve not felt that way before

have you got enough cash for a sandwich you’ve some money in your back pocket of that you’re pretty sure.

Why can’t you stand up you push your hand down on the floor.

God what is this, is it blood it is, it is all over your hands and more.

Your legs have turn to jelly and you have never felt so cold

your chest feels tight and your guts hurt you so, you need to move you feel a hundred years old.

There is someone coming , you reach out for help,

they see the blood, they are so shocked they let out a yelp.

They haven’t stopped they have left you here what are you to do

Your life’s blood is leaving you fast and as you shed a tear

it all begins to go black suddenly, yet you feel no fear.

“Some one call an ambulance, but I think it is too late .

How could she just be left here and in such a state.”

________________________________________________________

Surely  we can feel compassion  for the awful  things we see in this  world. Not only  the young and old people  we see destitute  on our  streets. There  are  people all over  the world  suffering , women, men  children  in wars, ebola struck areas, prisoners  of  depotic people all over  the world.

What  can  we  do, buy  someone  homeless a sandwich, coffee, help  people . Be  empathic , love  care  learn true  compassion.

Tiny little fingers in the dust,

Huge eyes so sad begging for your crust.

You are so hungry you need it for you

But this is your child, who you can’t deny, true?

Hunger gnawing at your bones like cancer spreading fast.

You worry if you’ll be strong enough to find water, as what you have just will not last.

No one is going to help you, your sons and daughters gone for soldiers.

These two left will escape that fate as they will not grow much older.

Your milk dried up, your belly empty.

It hurts so much to walk but walk you must, you can’t stop.

The baby at your breast has long since ceased  crying.

This sweet young child clinging to your skirt is dying.

Where is the help  that was promised where is the aid that you need.

You have walked days now with no hope of helping your children not even to feed.

The baby needs medicine the western doctors dispense 

You have to flee from your home just were is the sense.

War at your left side famine at your righ,

 Politicians and corrupt leaders uncaring of your plight.

Had you stayed they would of killed you or worse …

OH! my poor children your birth is your curse.

Standing at the top of the hill

You can see a straggling encampment a red cross flag flying still.

You put down the baby his soul already flown

To your husbands arms now, at least not alone.

You need to rest  but your aim is in reach .

You lay in the dust next to your babes, close your eyes  just ignore the flies.

Tiny little fingers in the dust , huge eyes so sad finally closed.

Where is  the help that was promised where is the aid.

War on your left side famine at your right

They no longer threaten you Death has arrive to erase your plight.

1000 Voices Speak For Compassion

Follow me on Twitter

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Hot Dogs and Marmalade

Salty like hot dogs (and tears). Sweet like marmalade (and life).

Two on a Rant

Rants, humor, sarcasm, and a haiku-like substance? It's hard to know what's going to come out of our minds next.

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart

Trent's World (the Blog)

Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald

Marsha Ingrao - Always Write

Having fun, while encouraging, and promoting bloggers

Caramel

Learner at Love

Chel Owens

A Wife, My Verse, and Every Little Thing

Sacred SoulSongs

Sacred Paths and Detours

Mr. Ohh!'s Sideways View

For those of you who aren't me...and I've noticed a surprisingly large number of people who aren't.

The Small Dog

Life from the Tail End

USUAL MUTTWITS

DOG TAILS by ZoZo and Jools

kimbladeswriting

poetry and short stories

Ben Naga

Gifts from the Musey Lady and Me. "Laissez-moi vous raconter ma vraie histoire."

About the Jez of It

Poetry, stories and strange odds and ends from the desk of a writer

The Sound of One Hand Typing

Music, Musings, Memoir, and Madness

"LIFE" ( You like it, I love it! )

"LOVE"-Keeping it real, and keeping it simple!

Our Eyes Open

Come along on an adventure with us!

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

J-Dubs Grin and Bear It

As Always, More to Come

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Blog magazine for lovers of health, food, books, music, humour and life in general

Colline's Blog

a potpourri of thoughts and experiences

pensitivity101

An onion has many layers. So have I!

lynz real cooking

lynz real life

Darswords

Musings about Havenverse

From Cave Walls

The Journey Home

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Echoes of Life, Love and Laughter

like mercury colliding...

...moments of unexpected clarity

G-Bears Blog

Real Life - Hard Facts !

All in a Day's Breath

Art, Love of Life, Philosophy, Writing, Spirituality

Kevin Parish

Poetry, lyrics and other words...

Claire Ladds

Crime and dark fiction author

adamdixonfiction

Short stories from a fiction addict