Posted in Memories, Nostalgia, Poetry, Witterings

A little bit of Nostalgia…

As a child I only had the luxury of one surviving Grand Parent…and she was quite old too. But I do remember visiting her at her home in Aston on a Sunday afternoon, which was one of the old fashioned ‘back to back’ terraced houses near to Villa Cross.

While sorting through some old photos I found a picture of my parents wedding and they were standing outside Grandma’s house…so i wrote this:-

There’s only four rooms in my Grandmothers house

Two up and two down, life is hard.

No heating or plumbing, bare floorboards frayed rugs,

And the toilet’s out back in the yard.

Now the sitting rooms posh, but no one’s allowed

To sit on the couch to sip tea

It’s covered with sheets and the fires never lit

You can look but don’t touch, leave it be.

There’s a tatty old radio plays crackly songs

It’s the only indulgence she’s got

Cause she aye got a telly nor radiogram

Sings along as she warms up the pot.

There’s a rusty old tin bath she keeps out the back,

Once a week it gets dragged through the door.

Fills it up in the parlour from the kettle she’s boiled

Quickly bathes while it leaks on the floor.

There’s a slight musty smell but it’s pristine and clean,

The front step gets a scrub every day.

With a duster that’s surgically fixed to her hand

The dirt’s quickly shifted away.

My Grandmothers poor as her home will attest

No luxuries has she to boast

But the smile on her face as she opens the door

Shows she’s happy, her family to host.

Author:

Thank you for taking the time to drop in, I have the virtual kettle on, would you like virtual tea or coffee? As an aspiring writer I gain inspiration from people and life, both of which never cease to amaze me in so many different and often wonderful ways. I have always tried to follow the 'Life is for Living and not Worrying' school of thought, but have failed miserably and nowadays I spend my time worrying about how much living I have actually missed out on. Please accept that everything I write is done with my tongue firmly wedged in my cheek and one eye winking furiously. No offense is ever meant.

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