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Tollcross Tales
Writings
by Cathy Barnett, Sheila Finlayson,
Community
Based Adult Learning Creative Writing Group. Tollcross
Community Centre, Edinburgh
Back
to City Centre
Anger
Anger is people staring at me, but not seeing me. Anger is people speaking to the other person and not to me. Anger is people thinking I can't speak for myself. Anger is people seeing my wheel chair and not me. Anger is children ringing the bell and running away. Anger is the phone ringing and when I get there, they hang up. Anger is red. Anger is a loud voice. Anger is a bitter taste, like sour lemons. Anger is a stuck gramaphone record. Anger is having to repeat the same things to the same people time and time again. Anger is too low plugs!
S.F.
Dear
Body,
What I like about you is your weight. I am glad you are not too heavy for this chair which we share.
For a long time you made me wear surgical boots and callipers. This has been very uncomfortable especially in hot weather (thank goodness we don't get much of that!) At times I was exasperated, livid, shed tears and would have been hopping mad (if only I could have!) But I didn't swear (well not out loud). These horrible steel callipers sometimes took up to thirty minutes to put on and it was an exasperating ordeal. New ones are much better and take only ten minutes.
I have now accepted you into my life, but if I could change anything it would be your legs, so they could just get up and walk. Every weekend I go to physiotherapy and am learning to walk with a Rollator. When I was younger I was very keen to mix with all friends but your inability to walk let me down. The able-bodied Brownies welcomed me but when it came to the Guides I was refused permission because of the wheelchair. This was devastating and was one of the worst memories I experienced. The hurt, the cruelty and heartlessness of such people I expected to be Christian-like has never left me.
I do not mind too much if people call you disabled because I know my MIND has capabilities and working together we can make the most of a difficult situation.
I will try to look after you as much as I can. I will keep going to physio, keep doing the walking exercises and look after the other parts of you. I like to keep your hair neat and tidy and get it cut every four weeks.
Yours sincerely,
The grass is always greener
This is a story about two men, Simon and Dave. Simon is a joiner and has been for years, Dave is unemployed.
The two men live across the road from each other and they both have something in common. Their favourite colour is green and a lot of their wallpaper in their houses is green. On a dry day in their free time they take a walk in a park near where they live to ease the tension of everyday life and they like seeing the grass because of the colour. Both men find the colour green, their thoughts, lovely fields and trees, thinking of a summer's day, makes them feel warm, cheers them up.
Simon and Dave don’t speak to each other much. They just see each other around and don’t even know that they have something in common.
When they take their stroll through the lovely park they find in each other's life that grass is greener for each other, unaware that they are envious of each other.
Dave finds Simon's life greener because he has had a job for years. Simon finds Dave's life green because Dave is unemployed and Simon has been in the same job for twenty years. The same thoughts go through their heads everytime they go through the park: it's when they see their favourite colour looking at the grass brings out their thoughts. Green brings out the happiness in them, green is to them a lovely colour. But sometimes it can bring out the thoughts of grass being greener on the other side.
A.K.
The
Grape
I am a grape. It is good lying here on the shelf with all my friends. My worry is falling off then getting thrown in that horrible bin or getting dropped on the floor and getting stood on by all those heavy humans, and leaving me lying on the ground because I am no use to anyone then.
It is good to live on the shelf and if I am lucky someone will buy me and then I get taken to someone's house and if I am even more lucky I stay there a while longer till someone decides to eat me.
The place I would like to be best is in someone's home. Ofe of my first fears is that I could get crushed or damaged when I am being delivered to the shop but it's most unlikely. I am also afraid of being mishandled. I like being a grape because there are lots of others and I like being something sweet and people enjoy me. I would like to be a peach in my next life.
A.K.
'Poor
Oots'
I went to stay with my Granny in Granton most weekends. When I was staying at my Granny's, sometimes someone on her stair would be getting married. I would go outside and watch them getting into the car. If I could get someone to take me down to the church, I liked to do that. One of my aunts would do it. (Two of my aunts stayed with my Granny and my uncle.) There would be a wee group of children from the next stair and one of them sometimes took me. Or my cousin. There was always somebody. But not if it was wet. The brides wore white dresses but sometimes it was a smart suit. The bride would come out with her dad. If I knew them I would wave. Next minute they would get into the car and drive off. They wound the window down and threw out a couple of bags of pennies. This was a poor oot. You had to be quick or the other kids all ran to try to get it. They would run after the car down the road, hoping for more pennies. If the bride's dad knew me, he would try to throw the pennies across to me. One of my friends would go and pick them up. We would share it out back in the house. We'd go and spend it in a sweety shop. I went with my cousin Michael. He stayed with my Granny most weekends too. My favourite was Cadbury's milk chocolate. It used to be really thick, much thicker than now.
S.F.
My
Brother David
I have a younger brother called David. He was born on the 14th October 1963. Not long after he was born, my mother took him down to the shops as she needed some messages. When she came back home we asked her where David was. She had completely forgotten that she had taken him in his pram and had left it outside the newsagents. She had to go back and get him. He was still sitting outside the shop when she got there.
As a toddler, David kept getting lost. He had a pal named Harry and the two of them would ride their tricycles on the pavement. One day they were brought back in the coal lorry. After that, Mum used to tie him to the clothes pole because that was the only way she would know where he was.
Another day he was riding his bike down the pavement at Orchardhead Road. There was something wrong with the brakes and he couldn't stop so he used his feet to help him and crashed into a lampost. Because David never wore socks or shoes, he took several layers of skin off the soles of his feet and was on crutches for weeks.
The day we moved from Burdiehouse, David was playing on top of the settee. He fell off backwards and split his head open, resulting in Mum having to take him to the doctors. One of the removal men gave Mum his hanky to staunch the blood. David had to get stitches put in the wound.
These things are very trivial, because we nearly lost him. David was very ill and the doctor prescribed penicillin, but he reacted badly to it and was rushed to the Sick Kids hospital where the doctors and nurses saved his life. If it had not been for them I would not have a brother today.
M.M.
A Pair of Hands
We are a pair of hands. My name is Mr Right and this is my wife, Mrs Left. We work very hard for our owner and help her function in everyday life. We both have our different jobs to do but sometimes we work together. I, for instance, am responsible for allowing our owner to write this little story, while my wife is responsible for holding objects so I can open things like a jar of jam or a packet of crisps.
Our day begins when our mistress wakes up in the morning. My first task is to turn up her radio so that she can hear it more clearly, while my wife throws off the duvet. Our mistress then gets up and goes over to a chair where her slippers lie underneath it. My wife holds on to the back of it while I help my mistress put on one slipper. The process is reversed to allow her to put the other one on. Then I open the door of the bedroom where we sleep. The handle is always cold to the touch. After our mistress has been to the bathroom, I am faced with another cold door handle while my wife puts two door stoppers against it to keep it open. Our mistress then goes into the kitchen, only after my wife has turned the light on for her.
I get the cereal bowl from the draining board and also the side plate, while my wife takes the cereal box from the open space next to the cooker. We both open it, but it is my wife's duty to pour it into the bowl. Next she pushes the lid of the bread bin and hands me a small loaf. I take four slices of bread out of it before handing it back to her to place back in the bread bin. I then put two slices into the object that makes the toast. My job is not as dangerous as the job my wife has. She not only puts on the huge steel dragon that spouts steam through its mouth, she lifts it up and pours the boiling water into anything, be it a large mug or flask without spilling a drop. Of course she has been doing that job for as long as I can remember, but it still amazes me how she does it.
During the time our mistress is eating I help her fill in squares on a grid in the newspaper. After a certain time our mistress goes back into the bathroom. This time she takes off her cross and ring, which I guard for her. Then she strips and we help her to wash. She puts soap on a cloth and rubs all over her body. The water is usually cold to the touch. Then we help her to dry with a towel. We then help her to smell nice. Lastly we help her to clean her teeth. After we have done all that we help her to dress for her day job. The radio is still on as we help her to make the bed. I turn the radio off before she leaves the room. She then goes back into the kitchen and we do the dishes. My wife fills her flask and we both put the top on very tightly and put it into a bag along with the bag that holds the piece we made earlier. Then we put two pieces of fruit – one soft, the other hard - into the bag, and then we fold a plastic bag and put that in as well. Then we help her put a coat on. Our mistress then goes back into the living area and I pick up two items off a small table. I make sure that our mistress’s hair is tidy. We put on her glasses and I strap a watch around my wife's neck. I am humiliated sometimes by having a charm brackelet hung around my neck, but thankfully it is not too often.
M.M.
The grey squirrel in my garden
I have a big back garden and a big tree. I don't know what kind it is, but it's big and has lots of branches. If you look to the right of my garden there are rows of different kinds of trees in different people’s back gardens and they all join together with their branches.
Each day I sit at the living room window for about half an hour, just watching they grey squirrel running on the telephone lines then onto the branches of the trees and then you see not just one squirrel but two or three.
Sometimes they drop down into my garden and look for food that has fallen from trees or have a go at one of my bushes which I think is a berry bush. It is just nice to see them sit on their high bum or legs and watch their bushy tail move from one side to another as if they were enjoying their food. Sometimes but not very often they will come onto the window-sill. That's until the dog jumps up onto the window and frightens them, though not away, as they have the sense that this window will keep them safe.
My daughter loves watching them. She wants to go out with food and feed them by hand, but they always run away, up the tree, along the telelphone line and disappear into thin air. It's amazing that the little grey squirrels never fall from the telephone lines or from the tree.
C.B.
Extract from The Robbery
Peter Davenport had just been released from Crichton prison after serving a ten year stretch for the murder of Mr Jackson the bank manager. It had been the first time that he had used a firearm on a job. Ordinarily, he was just a housebreaker. What had caused him to switch to robbing a bank, he didn't know. Maybe it was the challenge of doing something different and exciting. Peter's life had been less than exciting with his mother always on the bottle and his father spending most of his time in prison. It was inevitable that Peter would become like his father. The only difference between him and his father was that his father had never used a firearm in any of his raids.
Peter stood outside the large bullet-proof gates of the prison, holding all he possessed in a black bin bag. It started to rain, softly at first, then getting heavier. He began to walk slowly towards the main road. A black car came towards him and stopped alongside him. The driver bid him to get in. Peter did so and it sped away passing the prison gates and away from the town of Pinkerton.
Pinkerton is a bustling town north of Asholt in the beautiful county of Workington. The people of Pinkerton are a close knit community, often helping each other in times of crisis. Yes, they have crime, just like other towns have and murders too, but the death of Alexander Jackson had hit them hard, not only because they had known him, but because he was killed by an outsider: someone who had deliberately come into Pinkerton to commit the terrible crime.
M.M.
Night
Classes
Hello, my name is Cathy. I want to tell you about the night classes that I go to. It's very interesting and enjoyable as you get to meet new people. I love the part where you get to know what other people are like. The night classes I go to on a Monday night are creative writing. I have written a few stories myself and it gives me an idea about what people think about them and if I need any help with the spelling and other things. I enjoy coming to the classes because it gives you a second chance to learn what you didn't have at school. It has given me more confidence in myself and made me a better person, and with my family too. I can help my children with their homework, which I couldn't before. Plus it gives me an idea about what I would like to do with myself in the future when my children grow up and I have more time on my hands. So, if a lot of people have different ideas about night classes, I am sure they have, well why don’t you try for yourself? Night classes are not just for learning, it can be a skill in its own way. I am glad that I have been given the opportunity to write about them.
C.B.
The
Café
In the café sitting on his own is a man called Jack. This person is a lonely man and he is not married and has no friends. Jack is sitting facing a couple talking and seeming happy and content. Jack is wishing that he was the man with the woman. Jack works in a factory and has finished and goes to the café because he is not in a hurry to go straight back home. He does not like going home because he has noone and has very little to do. Jack sometimes likes to pop into the café to pass the time and it gets him through the day. He has a brother and sister and they are both married and have their own lives to live. He is unlucky because he has not got a partner and he feels depressed that he can't get anyone.
Having a cup of tea, he is near the couple. He has his head down a bit. He likes the look of the woman but he doesn't want to make eye contact in case the man doesn't like it or gets angry. The couple aren’t really noticing him.
Jack stays at the café a while longer just to pass more time. Eventually he gives up for the day and goes back to his flat. It is about a 10-15 minute walk to his home. Jack is a shy man and doesn't make friends. It is difficult for him, but he is a nice man. It is about 6pm when he heads back. It's a quiet street but the population wasn't as big in those days. Jack walks slowly home hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.
A.K.
Things
I like
I like the smell of freshly mowed grass. But I hate the smell of paint. I like the smell of freshly baked cakes. But I hate the smell of coffee.
I like the smell of newly ironed shirts. But I hate the smell of a newly tarred road. I like the smell of new- born babies. But I hate the smell of cow dung.
M.M.
The word Deaf
The word 'Deaf' means a lot to me, as I am a deaf person.
'Deaf', the word scares a lot of people, as they are not sure of how to react towards deaf people. Sometimes people have problems with deaf people and get embarrassed.
'Deaf', a word that lets people know that the person cannot hear. That worries people, as they don't know how to communicate with each other. That can hurt feelings towards each other.
'Deaf', a word that a lot of people think means that you cannot speak. Some people are different from each other.
'Deaf', in my experience other people think that you are stupid and that you don't know anything.
The word 'deaf' sometimes scares me, as I get myself in odd problems, such as being in the middle of a conversation and still feeling left out or as if I have horns sticking out of my head.
C.B.
When
I am old
When I am an old man I shall wear jeans and a baseball and trainers and I will go to the pub and have lots of drink and be merry and get loud and play my CDs full volume.
I shall go out and paint the town green and enjoy myself and make up for my youth.
When I am old I shall live life to the full without a care in the world: why be mature and responsible? I should just let go and mis-behave.
I shall get my ears and nose pierced and have several on. I shall kick over traffic cones and spit on things, look out world – here I come! Now I have to be boring, just sit at home, do housework and watch telly.
A.K.
Spring
I love to see the blossom. It's so beautiful and it lets you know that spring and the summertime are near and the nights are getting lighter. I love the light nights. I don't like the dark nights because I'm in my house by myself and children are always knocking on my door. But in the lighter nights, it's not so bad. You can see what they're doing and I feel a bit more relaxed and more at ease. I like pink blossom best. And I hear the birds very early in the mornings. I always wake up early in the mornings.
It's not like the winter morning that are very dark and miserable. The lighter mornings make me feel I must get up and I feel a lot better for these days because I don't want to lie in bed. Winter days make you feel down and sad and miserable. But in the summer and spring days I feel much better and want to do more things with my day. I don't want to just sit around doing nothing and watching TV all day. I am ready to do more exciting things, like planning for holidays and planning for going away at the September weekend. After my holidays I feel a lot healthier and happier.
I love the sound of the birds and the sight of daffodils and crocuses and people playing bowls on the bowling green. From my living room window, I sometimes watch them and on a lovely summer evening I will open my side door, eat an ice-cream and watch them playing bowls. Sometimes I will get my friend Robert down and Nicky who is one of the support workers brings Robert down. If she doesn't bring him, he comes down by himself. Lat year we had two of our staff went to Lapland. People were playing bowls to raise money for them. Last September I watched with my friend Wilma. It was a horrible day – it was raining.
S.F.
Fear
Fear for me is being in the house alone at bed-time after ten. I have to have people sleeping over. During the day I'm fine. Fear is darkness, silence, quietness. Fear is grey. Fear is butterflies. Fear is a hand gripping me.
S.F.
My brother Gordon
I have a twin brother whom I adore and trust very much. When I was small, about one year old, my mother didn’t know that I was deaf, because I did everything my brother did. By the time I was four and a half years old, I went to school and that is when they found out about my hearing. One day, Gordon, my brother, was off school and the teacher was calling the names out for the register. I didn't hear her, so she hit me across the knuckles with a ruler. I didn't know what it was for, so I hit the teacher with a chair.
I don’t remember much about my childhood but I will write down what I can. One day the school had some scaffolding in the playground, it was about 25 feet high, so I thought being brave, I will climb to the top and swing down by the bars. I got down to 15ft when I missed the bar and fell down like a ton of bricks, knocking myself out. I went to the hospital and stayed in overnight.
One really cold day it had been snowing and was a bit icy. Well, in the big playground there was a big slide in the middle of the ground. I went down the slide and fell, but this time there were four or five coming down and they all fell down on top of me and knocked me out. Again I was taken to hospital and stayed in over night.
One day I was playing in the back green with Gordon and our friends, when a gang of boys started throwing bricks at us, for no reason. One of the bricks caught Gordon on the ear and ripped it half off. I saw who it was and started to chase them. I caught up with the boy and started to batter the hell out of him. I never saw that boy again.
I started a new schoool. It was our secondary and if they knew you were new at the school they did something to you. One day I saw a crowd of people standing at the fence, so I went to see what was going on and there to my surprise my friend was put on the rails with his pants and trousers down and everyone was laughing at him. Then a boy grabbed my brother. I said,"Put him down!" The boy replied,"What are you going to do about it?" I told him that he was my brother and if he didn't put him down I would put his head through the railings. So I did and they had to get the fire brigade to come and free him. It turned out that he was the bully of the school. He never came near me and my friends again. In fact when the rest of the school heard what happened, he was the laughing stock. Gordon always got into fights and I had to finish them off!
C.B.
My
Hands
I have short and slender fingers. They are hard working hands and not afraid of hard work. I don’t look after my hands the way I should: my nails break and split at the corner of my fingers. I get cuts and bruises on the back of them, my skin is like an old woman's. My hands love moving all the time: I have to do something with them. They get knocked about with my walking crutches: my knuckles get bruised with using the wheelchair. My hands are the working part of my body. They do everything: write, paint, drink and help make things for my daughter's project. I don’t know what I would do without them. It’s like I think with my hands. I should look after them as they have looked after me. What kind of future do they have? Well, that's up to me. They love the rings that I have on and they need a treat..
C.B.
The
Tree's Story
I am a small tree, just standing in a garden with lovely plants and garden objects. Most days it's very windy and cold and other days it's sunny and warm. I feel cold today and yet there's no wind. I look down to the ground. I see the owner of the garden with a saw. What is he going to do with that I think? I was watching him all the time and he came closer and closer to me. Just as he was at the foot of my tree, he started to saw away at me.
I cried out for help, but noone could hear me. The more the saw was going into me, the more I was frightened to think what will become of me. I fell to the ground with a hard crunch. The man had picked me up and went down to the other end of the garden which was a shed. Inside this shed there was lots of machines and different tools. I have seen these tools before. What were they for and what was happening to me?
First I was shaved with a nice smooth tool. I felt very naked. I am now about 5 feet long and quite chunky. Then I got frightened with the sudden noise of a machine which I didn't like the look of at all. I was sliced in half. One half was put aside, the other on the bench, then I was cut up into small 4 by 6 inch pieces. Then the man picked up a pencil and started to write on me – it was funny. I could feel the pencil go over one side then the other side. All the time all I could think was what was becoming of me. I lay on the table a long time.
The next thing I was picked up and put onto a saw that made a horrible noise. I could feel small bits coming off of me until I was a shape of some kind. There was four of us. Then something wet came all over me, with different colours of paint. I like the bright colours. Then two of us were put together with a white glue. I had a hammer which was put on to the end of my arm, which I think is called a hand, and then I was put on a piece of wood to stand on. There was another figure beside me on the bench which looked like a woman. Then I realised that I was made innto a man and the other parts were made into a woman.
We both had hammers in our hands. Then we were put against a tool to dry off.
After a short while, the other parts of me were made into a house with two doors on each side and in the middle was a metal thing. The only thing I didn’t like was that I was put in one door and the woman was in the other door. The house was painted with such beautiful colours and on the outside like wee small windows. Then I was put inside the house at one door and the woman was put in the other door. There was a lot of metal in the house. I could not figure out what it was all about. Then the whole house with us in it was put on to a shelf near a window in this large room. The master put a hot light at the centre of the house to see if we were working. I felt myself going out and hit the metal part in the middle, which told them that it was a hot day and when he put ice in the house the woman came out and hit the middle to tell them it was going to be cold. And I realised that I was made into a beautiful weather house with a nice woman in the house for me.
C.B.
Freddie
the Frog (inspired by a selection of buttons)
Hi. I am Freddie. I am a frog and I live in a big pond with all my friends and family. The pond that I live in is at the back garden, in the middle in fact. I am made of plastic and am about 3 inches tall and my skin is a dark green with white spots. My friends and family are just the same as me. We all get on together and have some fun in the pond. The pond has plastic flowers and some kind of plants and it is about 2 feet wide by 1 foot deep and 1 foot long. It is just the right size for me and my friends and family.
One day I was just sitting at the edge of the pond reading a book when the owner of me came across to the pond and decided to clean it out as it was a bit like a jungle. Piece by piece he took the plants and flowers out and put them in a bucket of clear water. I don't know what was in the water, but when they came out again they looked fresh and clean. Next was me and my friends and family. I was a bit scared as I thought I would lose some of my spots but that was not the case.
The pond water was changed and what a difference it made. The stones around the pond were washed in a strong liquid. Oh, what a smell it had. I would be a bit disgusting if I had to explain in words what the smell was like! Well, they all came out different colours and shades that I had never seen before.
The pond was getting put back together piece by piece. Then I noticed two different things about it. One, there was something that sparkled in the sun and it had a shiny look about it. It was a big sheet of glass made into the shape of an umbrella. I decided that I would add a bit of wood to it and make a glass shiny umbrella. The other thing was a pink shape like a little heart. I looked at it and put on a bit of string and put it round my neck. Then everything was put back. And now I am the Freddie the frog with a new umbrella and a beautiful heart.
C.B.
Buttons
Mum had a box with all different kinds of buttons – all shades and sizes. She slways knew where to find one. I remember my Burberry coat. I came home from school one day with two buttons off my new coat. I was quite upset, and worried that she would give me a row because it was my first day with the new coat. I lost the buttons when the driver lifted me on to the bus: my foot got caught with the callipers. I hadn't done my coat up properly and the buttons got caught too. Mum told me when I got home not to worry about it. She would see if she had got some. She hadn't, but she went up the road to Miss Anderson's, the little drapers shop, and got them. She managed to get just two.
Miss Anderson’s shop was old fashioned: she always opened the door with a smile to let my Mum and me – in my big old wheelchair– into her shop. Sometimes she was through in the back of the shop, but she would hear the bell and come. She had lots of different threads and buttons, wool, knitting pins. I remember wanting to knit so Mum asked Miss Anderson if she had any old wool that I could practise with. Mum wanted to give her some money for it, but Miss Anderson said that since it was for me to practise on, and she was just going to throw it out, because it was an odd ball, we could have it for nothing. It had to be thick wool to make it easier to hold. I really wanted to knit, but my disability wouldn't allow it and I couldn't manage. It was very frustrating. I wanted to be able to knit as a hobby when I was in hospital, as I couldn’t read much and it would have given me something to do.
S.F.
Colours
RedMy bedroom was red once: it was a bit Frightening. Christmas crackers. Cherries. Red jelly. Lipstick on a glass. The devil inside me. What I could get up to if I had the chance. Embarassment. A red scream. Once my favourite colour. But not now.
Blue. The sky on a summer's day. A clear day The sea. Blue blood. Blue fingers. Peace. A colour so nice my friend said she could eat it.
GreySandstone houses. Gloomy. November. Emptiness. The old man next door wore a grey suit all the time and never changed it. My cat, Flynnn. Donkeys. Squirrels. The Firth of Forth.
OrangeFireworks. Autumn. Fanta. Terracotta. Not nice. Eating oranges: full of vitamin C. The warmth of a fire.
BlackSadness. Remoinds me of not nice things. Evening dresses. Crows. Words. Dark night and the black hole of the universe. My second favourite colour – I got married in it. Long elbow length gloves. High heeled boots. Black sheep.
WhiteSnow. Wedding dress. Ghosts. Pearl on a string. An open space with nothing around it or inside it. Cool sheets in summer. Fainting children. Boring and plain. Asda Wal-Mart Super Centre inside and out. Milk. Cotton wool. Chocolate.
GoldWedding ring. A bird in a golden cage. Leaves that fall in autumn ( I put them in my book of leaves.) Fools gold. A miser's gold. A sunrise. Very posh. My father's tooth. Often stolen by thieves. The high life.
Hands
These are the hands of Barry Dunston. He asked his wife to marry him with them. He holds Lilly, his first daughter, with them. And he uses them to articulate his frustration at the government's lack of interest in officially recognising British Sign Language.
This postcard inspired me to write about my hands. I too can relate to frustration in my encounters with members of the public. I have felt like using my hands to show rude gestures to unhelpful taxi drivers. But I'm not that type of person.
I use my hands instead of my legs. My hands are my legs. I use them mostly for pushing my wheelchair and moving myself up from my chair and into my bed. I use my hands to walk - to walk across the parallel bars to exercise my back. I use my hands to walk upstairs. I use my hands when I fall getting out of my chair and crawl on my hands and knees to pull myself up using my elbows. I use my hands for eating, dressing, for answering the phone at work and for writing which I would love to do more of. I used to get sores on my hands because of having to propel my wheelchair. My hands are used to it now. I would like to use my hands - or hand - to write more.
S.F.
The
Black Coat
The Black family had once lived on a beautful black coat. Mr Black was at the top then his wife Mrs Black and then Tim Black. Tina was the last button on the coat. The owner of the coat only wore it for funerals. The rest of the time it stayed in a dark cupboard. In the beginning she was quite slim but each time someone died in her family she would be so sad that she would eat and eat until she got so fat that the Black family woud pop off the coat one by one.
First Mr Black, then Mrs Black and so on until they were all off the coat. The owner of the coat carefully put them in a box with all the rest of the lost buttons. She always meant to sew them on to new garments but she never quite got around to it. As the years rolled by it was the turn of the owner of the black coat to die. When she was buried in a coffin twice as big as a normal one, her house was being cleared when the button box was found and put into a charity shop to be sold. And there it sits still with the Black family and all the rest of their button friends waiting patiently to be bought and to be sewn onto another black coat.
M.M
The
Ironing Board
I am an ironing board. I live a very sheltered life in a second floor flat. It is a bit boring standing in the corner of my mistress's bedroom even although I have got the clothes-drier to talk to. My cover is torn and a bit bedraggled. The step-ladder standing next to me has never anything interesting to say. I am taken out occasionally and a tee-shirt or pair of trousers is placed on me and a hot iron is run over them. I am so lonely and I long to have the company of other ironing boards. I was lovingly made by my mistress's father out of plywood. So I am good and solid and should out live my mistress. I am not like the ones you get in the shops: just a bit of board placed on some iron legs. Oh no - I like to think or myself as the Rolls Royce of ironing boards!!
M.M.
Haikus
Catching me unawares Fireworks making a loud bang Beautiful colours.
Fireworks going bang in the sky. Making spectacular colours. Disappearing in the dark.
Lighting of the lamp. It sits on the corner table. Bright light all around.
The bus was very late. Waiting for twenty minutes, I was cold and wet.
Children in the house, Arguing and shouting, but Dad reads the paper.
Snow falling softly on the ground, Deep and white and crisp. Snowman standing in the field.
Jelly fish on the sand. See through and luminous blue. Small feet dodge round them.
E aster eggs pile up from January in the shops. A day for children to go and roll their eggs. S unday in church, singing Easter hymns. T alking to my Dad – a special day with him alone. E ating a good meal, then R elaxing.
Molly
and her Diary
Molly is a model during the day and works for her mother's restaurant as a waitress at night. She still lives with her mother and sees her Dad when she wants to. Molly was only 17 years old when her parents divorced and her borther was only 15 years. Her brother's name is Danny. He is still at college. Molly loves her modelling job and hopes to do it full time. Her brother Danny is just a lay about, because he can get what he wants, but Molly is different, whe wants to make something of her life and make her Mum and Dad feel proud of her. Molly looks after Danny when her mother is on business. She loves her brother, but sometimes she can strangle him. He is just like a teenager and wants to be a racing driver and like frightening the life out of his mother. But he has a criminal record for speeding along the street. He has been caught a few times but was let off a couple, until he almost ran someone down.
Molly writes a diary each day. Here are some excerpts:
21st October 1999 Dear Diary, I have just had an awful day –nothing went right. Danny has been up to his tricks again. He is just impossible at times. Dad is coming today to see if he can do anything with him. I missed my first modelling of the day, then things just went from bad to worse. At my night job I was just glad to finish and get home. Home at last and the light blew in the house and I couldn’t find a torch, so I just left everything and got undressed for bed. Tomorrow will be a better day.
23rd Oct 1999 Hi diary, Mum has been on business again, and I was left with Danny. I love him so much, but why do I have to look after him all the time? I have been busy in the past 48 hours. Danny invited a few friends round and what a mess he made with the house! I had to tidy up before Mum came home.
25th Oct 1999 Well diary, I have had an exciting day today. At 8.30 am I got a call from my agent asking if I would like to go to Manhattan for a couple of modelling jobs. I just jumped at the chance. My first was to model swim suits and then some trousers. It's been a long day for me. I am just happy about what I achieved today: could this be the start of my modelling career?
C.B.
Stuck in a Lift
Four years ago, just before Christmas, I went to do some Christmas shopping on my own. After my shopping and on the way out, I went to the cafeteria at the Sava Centre. Half way to the restaurant, the lift I was in suddenly stopped. I was all on my own. I tried to stand up to press the emergency button which was very difficult because it was so high. But with a struggle I managed.
Suddenly the lift started to move and I got a big fright. I was shaken, and very scared. The Under Manager came into the restaurant and spoke to me. He kindly offered a free meal but that didn’t really help much.
He explained a shoplifter was trying to escape and a shop assistant pressed the button to stop the lift. But I was stuck in it for the longest ten minutes of my life. I was shouting "Help!" and screaming and banging on my chair as I thought I would never get out. The lights had all gone out.
Afterwards I wrote to the shop asking them to lower the emergency button, but they replied and said no. They told me the lifts were checked regularly and that this should never have happened.
Now I don't go to Cameron Toll any more on my own. A carer comes with me.
I don't feel the shop dealt with this very well. I lost confidence altogether for a long time. Now I have my own house and have got some confidence back.
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