Thursday, 7 October 2021

Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (98) Christmas Memories Evoked

 

When Keith Fulbrook was growing up Christmas was a very special time for him and every year the season evoked so many memories and many of those memories were of the times he spent at his grandparent’s farm in Shallowfield.

A row of wellington boots standing on the flagstones, fresh from hours of play in the snow and dripping wet mittens drying on a string behind the tortoise stove in the kitchen, the smell of burning logs and damp wool invading the nostrils, soon to be replaced by the scent of a fresh cut fir tree in the living room filling the air with the aroma of Christmas joining the smells of nutmeg and ginger coming from the pantry.

He just had to smell pipe smoke and he was back with his grandpa with his twinkling blue eyes and wry smile as he puffed out a dense cloud of aromatic smoke from his meerschaum pipe.
But it wasn’t just smells, the house was always alive with the ringing sounds of boisterous laughter of ten grandchildren of varying ages filling the house.

And when the house wasn’t resounding with laughter it was music as the family gatherings always prompted renditions of the carols and songs of Christmas played on guitar and fiddle and sung with gusto.
But that wasn’t the only Christmas music he remembered there was also the sweet sounds of a choir at the candlelit midnight mass.

But candlelight was eclipsed by the sparkle and twinkle of the fairy lights reflected on the fragile glass ornaments and heirloom decorations that magically transformed his grandparent’s living room into his childish vision of a magic wonderland.

And then there were the tastes candy canes and chocolates from the tree, satsumas and nuts in their stockings, sugar almonds, jellied fruits, dates, liquorice, and mints.

Turkey and all the trimmings, Gammon, Christmas pudding, brandy butter, mince pies, shortbread, pies, tarts, fruit cakes, sausage rolls.

But all the bounty of the table was far outweighed by the abundance of love which was linked to every single memory.

But his favourite Christmas memory came when the winter delivered up the perfect Christmas gift, snow.

 

When Keith went to bed the wind howling through the trees gave no clue that it was carrying Jack Frost to the Vale but the next morning when he woke up to the sound of excited squeals and when he looked outside he gazed out at the whitened landscape and ten minutes later all the grandchildren dashed out into the white magical world, screaming and shouting like released convicts rejoicing in a new-found freedom.

The warm knitted gloves were soon abandoned as snowballs were hurled in all directions.

Shrieks filled the winter air as aims improved and increasing numbers found their mark.

As the battle ground expanded they joined forces with a group of village children and that was the moment he first saw Yvonne Sage and he discovered there was something even more exciting than a white Christmas.

Yvonne was the same age as him, give or take, and she was tall for a fourteen year old girl, lean and wiry with braided brown hair and a bit of a tomboy but he was smitten.

But he had never noticed a girl before so he didn’t really know what to do about his infatuation.

But because she chose to join a group building a snowman so did he.

   

Rudolf, their giant snowman, gradually took shape on the village green.

A red tartan scarf was draped around his broad shoulders and a boy produced an old battered black hat, which was accidently set at a jaunty angle on his huge head which gave him a rakish look.

Two un-sucked gobstoppers provided him with staring blue eyes.

Keith and Yvonne held the ends of a length of old rope which they tied around Rudolph’s substantial waist, some pebbles substituted for buttons, a carrot nose and a stick mouth completed the magnificent figure.

And then they stood back to admire their handiwork.
Despite being pleased with the finished article Keith panicked because he didn’t know what to do next if Yvonne suddenly went off with her friends.

But then Tom and Lindsay Collingwood suggested going up to Coopers Hill for a bit of sledding.

“Yeh count me in” Yvonne said “What about you Keith?”

Keith was so releived that he didn’t know what to say so he just nodded his agreement and she smiled because she really liked him and she wanted him to go with her.

And so they walked up to Coopers Hill together and the fact that they didn’t have a sled or a toboggan didn’t seem to faze them at all, so on the way there they collected some cardboard boxes from outside Stephenson Supermarket and shared a sheet of cardboard and used it to ride down the hill, screaming at every bump, and when they got to the bottom Tomboy Yvonne had a boyfriend.

Although they didn’t realise it at the time they were victims of love at first sight and it was a love that lasted a life time.

SHE’S THE BUTTERFLY KIND

 

She’s the butterfly kind

With a butterfly mind

Always moving she never sits

Her head is full of thoughts that flit

The butterfly miss

With the butterfly kiss

ENTWINED IN THE AFTERGLOW

 

Passions spent in our libidinous embrace

Loves contented glow upon her face

I feel safe lying entwined in the afterglow

But in the morn will love melt like April snow

Or will its strength sustain in longevity

Or shall we remark upon its easy brevity

I could lay here forever cocooned in eternal love

We are a perfect fit, the hand and the glove

But if it didn’t last forever I still had - this

Then gently on her soft flesh I leave a loving kiss

And I urged myself to live in the moment

And know that there I could be content

 

THE MARINERS TALE

Marked by the tides of love,

We almost breached the sea wall

Before our fortunes waned

And we began our Titanic fall

 

From the crest of a wave

To the depths of the deepest sea

Marks the rise and fall

Of the love between you and me

Wednesday, 6 October 2021

Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (97) At the Christmas Market

 

Memories of William Horton’s childhood flashed through his mind as he approached the Christmas Market in Shallowfield.

Although the memory that filled his head was a distant one, in more ways than one, as it happened many years earlier when his father was an Army Colonel stationed in Berlin.

Their Nanny Gisela took them to the Spandau Christmas market and she indulged them with food and drink, he could almost taste the spicy sausages, fried onion and tangy mustard, the recollection was so vivid.

He knew that the Shallowfield Market was a pale imitation of its German counterpart but he wasn’t there for Gluwein or spiced sausage nor was he looking for marzipan novelties or tawdry decorations.

His interest was in the centre piece of the market, the Christmas Tree, a mighty thirty foot evergreen dressed to honour the season and when he got his first sight of it, it made him sigh.

 

It was a magical place for him and looking upon it brought him back to the moment he had last seen it a week earlier and he felt the joy of that moment instantly, when he kissed Georgia for the first time in the glow of the trees lights.

But that kiss had not been repeated since because he was a soldier of the Downshire Light Infantry like his father before him, and he had been away with the regiment, but a promise was made to meet again, a promise he hoped they would both be keeping.

 

He stood by the tree and scanned the faces in the crowd looking for a tall willowy red head, but after ten minutes he began to think she was going to let him down. 

But then he felt a tug at his elbow and when he turned around Georgia was smiling at him.

“Hi” she said

“You came” William said

“Of course” Georgia retorted and kissed him as the Snow fell softly and the lights of the tree twinkled and their hearts became entwined.

WITH MY PETTY JEALOUSY

 

Sibilant whisperings

Greeted me

For it was I

Who stole their glee

 

The gathering

Looked upon me

As the architect

Of their misery

 

They could barely

Keep their hate inside

At this wedding

Without a bride

 

It was all my doing

With my petty jealousy

And with it in me

I had made her flee

HAPPINESS WAS THE HARBINGER

 

Happiness was the harbinger

Of my doom

Happy laughter echoed

In every joyful room

 

But we were too happy

That was our crime

The God’s couldn’t bear

To see us happy all the time

 

So they sent the angels

To take you from my side

They took your life

And left me dead inside

 

Sadness envelops me

As I kneel by your grave

I try to keep back the tears

I try my hardest to be brave

 

But they come anyway

My grief is unconfined

My dear sweet angel,

Resides with others of her kind

 

I curse the selfish Gods

For their spiteful jealousy

And pray to them also

To come soon and take me