Selfie

Since it's been in the news today I thought I'd do one.

Also finally here is my poem:

I come from talking,
Women,  mother, grandmother,  friends & sisters,
Interested people....What do you think of this? people... how do you feel about that? people...  Listening, photographing, collecting, recording and analysing.  

Oldham-ers – down south, with telephone voices and a long drive back to their roots, the cloying sweet smell of Grandad’s pipe, playing “Beatle”, and listening in awe to Nene’s softly spoken stories.

I come from strong family loyalty, optimism and ambition, “if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well”.  The turn of the key in the lock, and the confidence of knowing with absolute certainty that I was important, and that they would always be there.

I come from playing cribbage whilst Dad watched Sports of the Day.  Of being called a “duck egg” and at bedtime, told to  go “up the janny-awners”.

I come from the push and shove of getting on the bus from school.  School bags pressing into your back, boisterous joking and swaying with the mob.  Sensible shoes, 2oz of pineapple chunks, and a crush on my music teacher.  A comprehensive where girls did domestic science and boys did metal work, no choice.

I come from the time when my mothers’ hard stare across the dinner table was enough to keep me in line.

I come from the world of Blue Peter and Saturday Swap shop.   The bossiness of making up dance routines and the thrill of performing them.  Listening to ‘The Boxer’ by Simon and Garfunkel  and thinking the extended “li la li” chorus at the end was a scratch in the vinyl.  I come from the days when boys that liked you made up tapes.

I come from the intoxicating smell of Sunday lunch with Mums' never-bettered roast potatoes, the catch up talk, opinions shared, the wine loosening tongues.  I come from egg, chips and peas, cheese and onion pie, and fish fingers...... all with tomato sauce.

I come from the pressure of being the eldest and never sure of being good enough.

I come from the error of a turquoise shag pile carpet...and a yellow Ford Capri.  A sandpit, a patio, a trampoline, a table tennis table; foxes raiding the bins and the soft fur of a plethora of rabbits, guinea pigs and hamsters.  The longing for a dog...

I come from the crackling of a bonfire on an Autumn evening with my Dad, the satisfaction of the flame catching and growing, the heady smell of wood smoke in every pore....late into the evening.

I come from an articulate, expressive, principled woman and a determined, calm, diplomatic man.

From Oldham.

I come from listening, loving and sharing....and  talking.