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CHARLIE AND THE LACE FACTORY<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Monday 4th<\/sup> May 1904, Grand Theatre Radford Road, Hyson Green<\/p>\n Evening performance of Sherlock Holmes over, Charles Chaplin aged 15<\/p>\n Collar askew from a swift costume change leaves Billie the page boy behind<\/p>\n And cheekily slaps the final drop curtain just below King Charles head<\/p>\n The sun-light overhead sputters and dies leaving the stalls gloomy<\/p>\n As he exits through the corridor of mirrors, flickering like a film<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He turns left on to Gregory Boulevard which is quiet now, audience departed<\/p>\n The half-moon illuminates the Forest park to his right, a few stars above the trees<\/p>\n Cold now he huddles in his thin jacket, stuffs hands in pockets and half-runs<\/p>\n Ahead the last tram descending the Mansfield road clatters in the darkness<\/p>\n A cab rattles past him headed toward Hyson Green its two jovial occupants singing<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Then silence, just his own steps and far off an occasional cry, or clack of hooves<\/p>\n Latecomers emerging from the Grovesnor Hotel or workers leaving late shift<\/p>\n At the Mansfield Road a sudden burst of steam and noise as a train exits the tunnel<\/p>\n Then silence again as just Charlie and his shadow dance their way up Sherwood rise<\/p>\n Carrington Market is busy with late drinkers fresh off their factory shifts<\/p>\n The rumble of machinery echoes across the granite sets, mixes with brewery smells<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A quick tap at the door and Mrs Hodgkinson lets him into his digs at number 100<\/p>\n From the back high window he looks down on the Burton and Sewell factories below<\/p>\n Their dark brick walls dotted with illuminated floors of workers making lace<\/p>\n Women on one floor tending the bobbins and un-twirling long lines of thread<\/p>\n Below men tending to the machines as they endlessly repeat their movements<\/p>\n He thinks he catches a smile from one young girl but she is gone in an instant<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He is left hanging out of the top window watching clouds cross the moon<\/p>\n His only companion a rabbit hidden beneath the bed can be heard scratching<\/p>\n He feeds it leftover stale bread he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been given that morning<\/p>\n Watches the endless repetitive machines coming and going over and over<\/p>\n The steady hum of machines that brought him to this place, steam and iron<\/p>\n The flicker of images that will be with him throughout these modern times<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He thinks of his mother in confinement, his brother tending a bar in London<\/p>\n He hardly speaks except when on stage and wanders a different town weekly<\/p>\n Too late to play loudly he picks up his fiddle and bow one more time<\/p>\n And stood in the window, in moonlight, imagines himself a famous musician<\/p>\n He glides the bow gently across the strings, hardly a sound can be heard<\/p>\n He serenades the men and women below, all the world his stage forever\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A woman in her 80s suffering dementia suddenly remembers her mother speaking<\/p>\n About a night she saw Charlie Chaplin playing to the stars but no-one believed her<\/p>\n How one day he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d return and play one last reel for her\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6.forever.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n CHARLIE AND THE LACE FACTORY Monday 4th May 1904, Grand Theatre Radford Road, Hyson Green Evening performance of Sherlock Holmes over, Charles Chaplin aged 15 Collar askew from a swift costume change leaves Billie the page boy behind And cheekily slaps the final drop curtain just below King Charles head The sun-light overhead…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[95,72,33,81],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1901","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-lost-nottingham","category-nottingham-poetry-festival","category-poetry","category-poetry-research"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6nhh-uF","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1901","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1901"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1901\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1908,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1901\/revisions\/1908"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1901"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1901"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1901"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}\n
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