Six members this week and no idea what to talk about, but we just chatted on; mainly about what we had done during the week and the topic turned to Bournemouth. One member had been on a coach trip there so soon our thoughts and memories turned to previous trips and these memories came flooding out.
It would seem that Bournemouth is a popular place to visit. It brought forward, also, a range of emotions from pleasant memories to feelings of isolation.
The lines in the poem are taken directly from what was said and then put together to create a contrasting tone so as to reflect the mixture of emotions that these memories brought to the fore.
I went to Bournemouth last week,
(by coach from Oxford).
Beautiful gardens – right down to the sea,
(It rained all day).
I think that, at some time, we have all been there,
(so long ago I can’t remember).
My Sue is buying a flat in Bournemouth,
(I am worried she will move there).
So many steps to climb to see her – at the top,
(I hope she doesn’t go).
My daughter worked for Sainsbury’s and arranged a trip,
(four coaches it took).
We had a very good time and such great food,
(one man slept through – what a waste).
I went to Bournemouth with my Dad and stayed in an hotel,
(I wasn’t allowed a shandy only lemonade).
Still the bingo was good and we stayed in all the time,
(home late on Monday)
Yes, Bournemouth has many memories.
A small group this week – a group of four. We started by looking at a collection of books with the theme of childhood. These books were full of pictures of children in the 1940’s and 50’s. These resulted in a lively discussion and what became apparent is that some of the group had found childhood rather dull and their life now rather boring. Other members of the group found neither childhood or their present lives boring. So, was boredom just a state of mind, linked to life’s opportunities or was it down to an individual’s nature?
At home, there is always something to do.
No-one to talk to.
But I have never been bored.
No-one says good morning or even hello.
Wartime everyone helped.
Listening to people moaning.
I read – I love autobiographies.
Hearing from others about aches and pains.
I make things – sewing clothes
I’ve never been bored.
A group of nine this week and a more difficult topic. The phrase “Naughty But Nice” comes from a 1939 film of the same name starring Dick Powell and Ann Sheridan. The point being were there experiences or events in our own lives where we had been naughty, but without evil intent, without wanting to hurt or destroy i.e. “nice”.
The group now is quiet strong and respectful of each member, but we reminded ourselves of our agreed boundaries i.e. what was said in the group remained there, unless there was a real concern about someone’s safety and care; that we all respected other members so we would be careful with what we said so as not to frighten or cause concern; that we should not hurt our own spirit or wellbeing; that anyone at any time can say stop!
What emerged was a series of lines, which this poem tries to keep in some sort of order. The poem should be read with rather a punchy rhythm to reflect the way that they said in the group.
A bag was found in a telephone box – a temptation, but it was returned.
Not so lucky was the Mickey Mouse money box my friend used to raid.
The sweets were delicious and all the more tasty, until she was caught and it stopped.
The Church – a source of wealth, by not giving the money I should.
Even worse was the reverse– I got a good hiding for that!
And so I played ill to avoid the temptation of going to that blasted church!!!
No television, no radio, but out on the street playing “Knock Down Nanny” or was it “Knock Down Ginger”?
Picking daffodils and tulips from gardens for Mother’s Day.
Pulling my brother out from the pond, brushing off frog spawn and taking him home.
But too many naughty things led to a smack – I was too much like my mother.
A really mixed up family, but wonderful when it worked.
My worst – I was evacuated at 10 and last to be picked.
A group of ten this week and again it was wonderful to see and hear how they gave each other the confidence to talk about their memories. Not everyone contributed, and for those who did not or could not, it was an opportunity to spend a little time listening to others and, I hope, reflecting on their experiences. Looking at their smiles and at their engagement, with the conversation, I am sure that they did.
We started by acknowledging our aches and pains – the results were: backache 2, neck-ache 2, no aches 2, finger ache 1, eye and ear ache 1, heartache 1. This final one gained the most sympathy, and the least sympathy was for the ear ache as she was not taking her medicine!
What emerged from our discussions were three main stories and one with an intriguing possibility.
My claim to fame was – as a bridesmaid,
Such a day, such a dress, such style.
A big wedding, a big ballroom
and I was the youngest by a mile,
There I was in blue and turquoise.
I did dress up – so lovely.
One man’s back was my opportunity,
It was the one thing that I wanted to do.
I felt fantastic. I took his place.
Thank goodness for his bad back.
I had no sorrow or sympathy there.
I entered stage left – so proud.
I love fruit and I love toffee,
So, toffee apples were my desire.
Ruby and I, we both went scrumping,
but Ruby was caught and locked in a shed.
I tripped him up and Ruby got out.
We ran so fast – so scared.
During the war, my mother made toffee apples
Where did you live?
So did I. I used to buy toffee apples from the lady a few streets away
And we all wondered how wonderful it would be
if two children had met again – so sweet.