Memories

by Kev

Cobbled streets and they’re all old terraced houses. They used to have parties in the streets.
People don’t have parties anymore like they used to have for the Queen.

The year was 1912, they were celebrating the Pope – ‘God Bless the Pope’ and bunting spread across the street.

The women are wearing very long skirts and their old shoes.

They will have made sandwiches, cakes and perhaps the old barrels you had to knock open with a hammer – I think they had beer in them.

The old time music like the waltz and jigs, they would have danced in the street and they might have played the accordion too.

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My dad is Irish and he has good memories of Ireland – the old peat bogs and the horse he let out of the gate by mistake. The cats on the farm where my dad worked only were given milk to drink because they lived off the rats.

My dad had a small farm in Bulwell near the ‘Crosskeys’ pub. Mum tells me we had to go to the well for water. I was born up in Bulwell and then we moved to Manders St near the market.
Our house was just like one of the ones on the photograph.

We lived next door to an empty scrap yard – I used to play in there. We used to have swordfights, me and my brothers, with bits of wood. The cat used to follow us to the shop and when my dad came home from work, the cat used to cry at the door because he knew my dad was coming. We then knew that Dad was home.

We lived on a small farm and we had lots of apple trees, like an orchard. Mum used to make apple pies, apple crumble, I really liked them. Mum used to make soda bread.

My dad wanted to get the midwife out but she couldn’t get to the house because of the snow. That’s when I came into the world. I think then my mum got pneumonia and we were all
looked after by my dad and other people.

I stayed with my uncle Jonjo for a bit and he lived in Northampton. I was about 12 years old, it was quite different from living on a farm as he lived at the back of a shop. But he looked after his friends farm so we used to go and milk the cows.

There was an all-night café across the road from his house and I remember hearing the music all night. It must have been the late sixties, as I remember the music – ‘Are you going to San Francisco with flowers in your hair’…and the Small Faces, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice…(banging on walls)…to get on with your neighbours’…

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Michael

by Kev

Michael is fifty years old and is a Buddhist.

He spent the last two years on a retreat in Scotland in order to find some tranquillity.
Due to this he cannot stop talking.

He works in the local library in Kent and has a fascination for Elvis Presley.

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The Journey

by Claire

I showed the real me
And found pain and misery.
So I closed the door to my soul
And let nothing in and nothing out.

Yet the pain continued to grow
And my spirits were oh so low
Alcohol was my only friend
… and my biggest enemy too.

We danced with death
And embraced loneliness
Together we closed the door to the world,
I created my own world of insanity and shame.

Self-destruction was my Universe
Kind voices spoke, but I never heard.
God was everywhere
But I never saw him.

Then I was touched by an angel,
Into his arms I gratefully fell.
I slowly awoke
And re-opened all those closed doors.

I now take the first few steps
On a journey of self-discovery
Of abundance and inner power
And of love and inner peace.

~~~~

Excerpts from

Changing my Life

by Paul McLintock

Age of 5 years old I went to Ayresome Junior School in Middlesborough. I was always running away from home because my parents split up. So I was always in trouble with the police from the age of 7 years old.
My mam got remarried to my step-father who was very strict. So I got in with the wrong crowd, getting into trouble, stealing bikes and stealing from other people’s houses.

I was put into care from 7 years old. Where I was put into an Assessment Centre for naughty boys, I had a social worker called Ronnie Bean. I kept running away from care homes, so I was sent to private school down south in a place in Torquay. The school was called Pitt House School… I kept mixing with the wrong people, drinking, smoking and stealing things I can get my hands on, just to get money, to get drink and go out night-clubbing.

I was doing a Youth Training scheme, I was earning £25 per week helping in an old people’s home in Sterling Way, Thornaby, just washing dishes and doing odd jobs. I started really getting into trouble where in 1984 I went to Strangeways prison in Manchester, where I was sent down for two years to a borstal. I found things were really tough, mixing with different criminals. I started to behave myself so I got out in a year for being good and keeping out of trouble whilst in Borstal.

I decided to move to a different place, away from my friends and family so I went to London, where I found myself on the streets of London, being homeless and sleeping rough and using different day centres to get food and using showers and washing my clothes in a washing machine to keep my clothes clean. I was sleeping on a cardboard with a sleeping bag, which I got off the Salvation Army. I slept behind the Army & Navy store in Victoria London. Every night I used the soup runs to get blankets and hot food and drink and sometimes clothes. I was on the streets quite a few years. When it was very cold and windy at nights, I would go to the Internet shop and use the Internet to keep warm and talk to people all round the world on Yahoo, a chat room.

I was talking to girl in New Jersey in America, where she paid for me to go out and meet her family; I spent three months out there on holiday. So I went out there for an experience, living in a different part of the world. She paid for everything. I stayed with her and her family; I was having barbeque every night but the time had to end because I had to come back to England. My time ran out. It was a great experience…

My first year being in a relationship with Yvette, we decided to have a baby. We had a daughter called Kivey-Marie, she was born in Nottingham City Hospital 10th July 2002. Things were going really well, so we got engaged on our daughter’s christening day, so we had a double celebration. I was with Yvette for two years, I really loved her and the kids very much. Things started to go wrong, because our daughter was born a month early, Yvette suffered from depression and things started to go wrong in the relationship; I started drinking so we ended up splitting up…

I am still in progress of a court case, which I am fighting for access of my daughter, Kivey-Marie. That’s when I started to change my life. I decided to go to counselling and get my problem sorted out, get off the drink. I am happy to say I have been clean for seven and a half months now. I feel a lot better in myself; I am aiming for goals in my life. I have changed my lifestyles round. I go to People’s College; I have just finished my exam for Drugs Awareness 1. I have just started Drugs Awareness 2; I am looking forward to better things in life. I want to work with homeless people who have alcohol and drug problems and people in the community who have worse problems than me.

I am doing a counselling course so I can learn what counselling work is all about, so I can build a better future for myself. I am living in the YMCA; I live every day of my life, learning to be a sober person. I am still fighting access of my court case, things are very slow but I can see things moving on, I am happy because I can see my daughter in November 2004.

I am building my life so I can get my own accommodation and find a flat or house for me and my daughter.

~~~~

On the Farm
by
Sharon Huckle

I was born in a cottage that was situated on a farm. My grandmother worked on the farm and the cottage was part of her wages. It was a cold winter’s day in January, and there was a large snowfall. The midwife’s car had to be dug out for her to go away. Luckily for her, I was born around 2pm. Therefore no hard frost had penetrated the snow, so it was easy to move. I had a happy time up at the cottage and continued to visit until I was 23yrs old, then my grandparents moved into town, for my grandmother had retired at 70 and being it was a tied cottage; my grandparents had to go. After a year of living in town my granddad died, but his last year of his life he was very happy, as he was no longer lonely.

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The cottage was on a mixed farm, for example - grew wheat, corn, root vegetables, and kept sheep, cows and pigs. A mushroom farm was next door, and every time we went to our grandparents we went home loaded down with mushrooms, blueys, turnips, swede and in summer – apples and blackberries.

One Sunday my family – two sisters, one brother, dad, the dog Bob and myself, went up to see our grandparents. Next to the cottage stood Crimea wood, plenty of trees to climb, fallen boughs, which we made seesaws and swings. In the afternoon my sisters and I took Bob our dog for a run down the lane. Bob was a welsh sheep dog but has never see a sheep. When we got to the warren, we found it full of sheep and before we could say “Jack Robinson” bob was in the field and chasing the sheep barking with his tail up. We were shouting and whistling to bring Bob to heel but he paid no heed. We were worried the farmer was around as he can shoot dogs that are worrying sheep. Because the warren is very hilly we lost sight of Bob and the sheep. We do not know what happened but Bob started yelping. He ran up a hill with his tail between his legs, with the sheep chasing him. He tried desperately to find a way out, finally he got out and I put him on the leash. By this time Dad had heard the commotion and was running down the lane to us. I got a right old telling off, but it was too late, I knew I did wrong. I should have followed the country code and kept Bob on a leash. Poor old Bob, he was locked into the van with water, and a window slightly open. And I felt very ashamed as I thought I should know better than to let a town dog loose in the countryside.
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One year the farmer grew wheat in the field opposite the cottage (we could see from the front room window). Come harvest time, out came the Combine Harvester. In those days the Combine Harvester turned out block bales, not round as one sees today. We were there as usual, plus our aunt and three cousins. All the children and myself too, went to play with the bales. Next we heard a tractor engine – the farmer had spotted us. We started to run then gave up, and stood and waited for the telling off, it did not happen. The farmer said it was ok to play with the bales, if we promise to stack them afterwards. We promised and the farmer showed us how to stack and went on his way. It took ages to stack the bales and we could not build them as high as the farmer did, so Dad came to help. You bet we were worn out and shattered by the time we got home. Dad said that the farmer was a crafty fellow, getting us to do his work. I wonder!!!!!

A Lump of Coal
by
Sharon Huckle

A lump of coal spat out onto the rag rug. Quickly father grabbed the tongs and picked up the burning ember, and placed it back into the fire then put the fireguard in place. The electric was off. The electricity board was on strike again. The candle light danced on the wall; they flickered as we (my sisters, brother and dad) gazed into the fire. The flames burned orange and the embers glowed red. We tried a game of I spy, but vision was not good and we felt comfortable just gazing into the fire with our thoughts. Now and again someone would comment on what came to their mind, mainly we sat quiet. Until the electric came on – life became normal again – Homework from school, telly, fights and arguments then bedtime.

In the darkness of our attic bedroom, my sisters and I told each other stories and made finger puppets from the glow of the moon. Outside our window was a large tree and very often we tried to invent patterns between the leaves and branches. (In the summer months, we used to watch the ducks from the park pond, waddled across the park to the other side and back again.)

Once we had a sparrow sleeping on our curtain rail. We thought it was good that the sparrow chose us, until we found bird droppings on the curtain. One morning before dawn, I decided to get rid of the sparrow, but it would not go out. I had put the light on and the sparrow flew frantically around the room; my sisters hid under their covers. The stair light is always on, and I opened the door and the sparrow flew down and so did I. I push the living room door open and flicked the light on. The sparrow flew in. Bob our dog caught sight of it and gave chase too, barking and yapping as he went along. Back up the stairs again and into the bedroom, the sparrow flew straight out of the window that had been opened wider. Needless to say the sparrow never returned.

My Favourite Toy
by
Sharon Huckle

As a youngster I slept with a rather stiff donkey. It came from a pull-a-long toy I had as a very young child. This donkey went to bed with me every night until I got married. Donkey used to fit snugly around my neck and that’s where it stayed until morning. It made me feel safe and not so lonely. My sisters shared the same bed too, so I had donkey; it never had a name but I loved it so much. I could talk to it, share my secrets with it and it never snitched on me. Of course I got at the age of seventeen and I have no idea where donkey went – hopefully to another lonely child.