It may be the weather today, final warming on the skin, family sitting in our garden outside my window. Whatever, it draws me to share this poem that I wrote last year in Winter when reminiscences kept the cold at bay. It also seems to be a time now
when I am drawn to the past or simply old age calling me back to younger times as escape. Enjoy.
Remembrance of a Seaside Outing
Nana Dillon thought nothing
of packing a picnic, marshalling
eight grandchildren like a
duck and her ducklings,
trekking us from Crumlin,
on buses and trains, to Blackrock
on a day when the sun shone.
Sand to play on or sea to swim in
but never both. Always
midweek, when travel was easier,
famed outdoor swimming pool
beckoned but never permitted -
it cost threepence
and we would be out of sight.
Seaside was concrete steps,
outdoor stone pool, endless
picnic sandwiches with sand,
orangeade, flasks of tea,
a homemade cake, sunburn,
building castles, burying feet,
sand fights, ducking heads.
Home trek always came too soon.
Tired small bodies
on long seats in old carriages
behind belching steam engine.
Nana ever caring for her keep.
The final crawl from the bus,
dinner, blacked out sleep.
Love this, Peter. Very evocative. Thanks for sharing.
Well done, Peter. I love the sandwiches with sand, the sunburn - how it felt like your skin was too tight to fit - belching steam engine, you forgot the smut in your eye that took ages to get out
Sounds like a wonderful woman - like so many Nanas!
"Sand to play on or sea to swim in but never both." He he he he Love it! So true, sums up a Dublin childhood. You cant have your cake and eat it...without crunch'n sand.
Yes very evocative--it reminds me of trips to Bray with my Mum and we have ice creamand candy floss-all on the train from Clontarf-a wonderful outing--well done Peter
Love it. Coincidentally Ive just written a similar one. Rosy
That’s a very evocative scene that you have set.
That's a lovey evocation of summers in Dublin. For us it was Dollier on the No. 30 bus or our dad's Ford 'Anglia', and then Calamine lotion and tortured nights.
That's beautiful Peter. What a lovely memory .Wasn't Nana Dillon marvellous.
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.