LETTERS IN THE ATTIC.

I’ve kept Rupert’s letters to me all these years. I don’t know why.  I come up here to the attic sometimes to re-read them and to escape.

Reading his letters I can still remember the girl I once was – or would like to have been.

People say that if you remember the sixties you weren’t there.  It’s said to have been a time of drugs, sex and rock and roll. I remember the sixties very well because Rupert and I met in 1968. The summer of love. All hippies, sit-ins, flares and flower power. A favourite song of the time was, “Are you going to San Francisco. It went, “If you’re going to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. If you’re going to San Francisco you’re gonna meet some gentle people there.” It sounds so soppy now but we all loved that song at the time.

Rupert and I met on the tube of all places. He accidentally stepped on my toe, very sweetly apologised and we just carried on talking. He remained on well past his stop and then asked if he could walk me home.

1968 is said to have been a time of sexual freedom. And it probably was for those who didn’t have nice middle class parents like mine watching their every move.

I remember feeling so excited when Rupert asked me to go away with him. I couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing him for six whole weeks. We were so much in love. I would have done anything to be with him. 

But my parents soon put a stop to that. Nice girls didn’t, they said. And that was that.

So Rupert and I wrote to one another. Every single day. And I still have his beautiful love letters.  Reading them now makes me want to cry. I don’t think I’ll throw them away just yet. They remind me of that time of innocence when everything was in front of me – when life was full of love and promise and …

 “Hey Jill, what are earth are you doing up there? You’ve been ages! Get a bloody move on! What is it with you? You always keep me waiting! Get a move on!”

I gathered up Rupert’s old love letters and stuffed them into their hiding place in the corner.

There was another yell, much louder and angrier this time.

“It’s time you gave that attic a bloody clear out. All the junk you have up there. Don’t tell me you’re mooning over those stupid old love letters again. You should have thrown them out years ago. I can’t understand why I ever wasted my time writing love letters to you!

Get a move on or do I have to come up there and drag you down myself!”

“It’s alright Rupert,” I reply meekly. “I’m coming down.”

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

FREEDOM.

This evening – Monday 22nd April – will be the beginning of Passover, when Jewish families all over the world will be sitting down to the Passover Seder. 

Every year, the Passover story is told.   How we, the Jewish people, were once slaves in Egypt and are now free.

Jesus, who of course was Jewish – as were his disciples – was celebrating the Passover meal (Seder) at The Last Supper. 

Passover often coincides with Easter – hence the first line of this poem.  It also often coincides with my birthday – though not this year I am glad to say. Growing up this meant that I rarely enjoyed traditional birthday cake or a birthday tea. Having said that, Passover biscuits such as cinnamon balls are so yummy that I often wonder why we don’t have them all year round!

PASSOVER DITTY

When you’re celebrating *Easter,

it’s Passover for me,

no bread or cake or biscuits,

just matzos for our tea!

We have to eat unleavened bread

that’s matzo don’t you know,

they’re rather tasty crackers

but for eight days it’s a blow.

We cannot bake with flour

so use substitutes instead,

coconut and ground almonds

because there isn’t any bread.

It’s the festival of freedom

when we fled Egypt long ago

but just as relevant today

with what’s going on you know!

NB – I wrote this poem last year when Passover was, as it so often is, at Easter.

If you would like my recipe for cinnamon balls, please let me know.

If you would like to know about Passover, here’s an excellent link from the British Library: https://www.bl.uk/learning/cult/inside/goldhaggadahstories/goldenhagg.html

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

© Photo by Andrea Neidle

ADDRESS BOOK.

I still use an old fashioned address book. The main drawback is that it needs regular updating. Hence this poem.

I do this every year.

Who’s in, who’s out

Crossing out the names

Of those no longer here.

One day far away

Will I look at the names

I crossed out today

And ask who were they?

And years from today

Will someone I know

Be doing the same?

Crossing out my name.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

WORKING FROM HOME.

It was the trainer at her gym who suggested to Jenny that her long-time partner Tom might be having an affair.

“That’s crazy!” We’re barely ever out of each other’s sight. Where would he find the time? And who’s going to fancy him, aside from me?”

“These things happen. Maybe he met someone at work?”

At this Jenny laughed. “He’s working from home for goodness sake.”

Their conversation preyed on her mind.

Could Tom be having an affair? Was it possible? Yes, he was working from home. But she wasn’t. How did she know what he was up to when she wasn’t there?

The following evening while Tom was in the bath, Jenny had a peep at his phone.  To her horror, she saw that he had been texting – or was it sexting – Anna of all people! Anna! Her best friend! How could she? How long had it been going on?

Jenny stared at the phone in disbelief. What should she do? Should she confront him?

“Hey Tom!” Jenny shouted through the bathroom door. “I’m popping out for a bit. I won’t be long.”

It was only a five minute drive to the Rose & Crown where her brother George was working.

 “I’ll kill him,” snarled George, when he heard what she had to say. He had never liked Tom.

Jenny downed her second glass of wine. And her third. “Don’t be daft George. But what would you do if you were me? Should I say something or should I pretend I don’t know?”

The bar was emptying.

“Goodness, I had no idea it was this late. I told Tom I was only stepping out for a minute. I gotta go George, thanks for listening.”

Jenny stepped out into cold dark night. It was raining heavily.

The car started immediately. What with the rain and the tears streaming down her face it was hard to see where she was going.

Tom and Anna. Tom and Anna. The windscreen wipers seemed to be saying.

She was close to home now, just turning the corner of her street.

Tom and Anna. Tom and Anna.

Suddenly a figure loomed out of the dark right in front of her car. She tried to brake but the car seemed to have a mind of its own.

Jenny heard the thud and she also felt it.

What should she do? She should never have left the house. She should never have had that third glass of wine.

Jenny fumbled for the handle. She found she had to concentrate really hard in order to open the car door.

In the road, illuminated by the car lights, she saw a body. It was lying all crumpled up and still.  Jenny could hardly breathe.

When she realised who it was, she gasped in shock.

Anna.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

MEMORIES OF LOCKDOWN 2020.

I wrote this post four years ago at the start of lockdown.

I saw only one aeroplane yesterday.  It’s so eerie seeing the sky empty of planes. 

Not long before lockdown we had Extinction Rebellion telling the world to stop flying. Looks like we listened.

I have read that pollution levels are dropping more each day. Not just in the UK but in cities all over the world. And that this coronavirus crisis could trigger the largest ever annual fall in CO2 emissions, more than during any previous economic crisis or period of war. Ironically, since Covid-19 affects the lungs, those of us who are not infected are breathing more easily.  Asthma sufferers are feeling better too.  And we all know that we can now hear birdsong far more clearly. Not just at dawn but right through the day.

Last year OH (other half) and I did our bit for the environment.  Instead of flying to France we made two long, relaxing train journeys from Kings Cross to Marseille. I say long but when you factor in the time you would normally spend getting to the airport, the time you spend in lines to check in your luggage and go through security, the time you spend hanging round at the airport waiting to board your flight – only to find that it has been delayed – then the train journey isn’t that much longer after all. And you arrive at your destination far less care worn and harassed.

In my advertising days I wrote press ads for Sealink Ferries. We used to say that your holiday began the minute you were on board. Train journeys are just the same. But not, alas, plane journeys. And now they’re telling us that if we are fortunate enough to get this lockdown relaxed and decide to fly abroad again that we will probably experience four hour waits at airports. Those of us who have used EasyJet won’t find the idea of four hour delays so unusual.

One of my early memories of flying was travelling to the States to meet my American relatives. I was 21.  On the plane I was sat in-between an elderly woman (probably the age I am now!) with a weak bladder and a much younger woman who was heavily pregnant.  They took turns throughout the flight in getting up to go to the loo and as a consequence I didn’t get any sleep.

Over the years OH and I have travelled extensively.  One time we had been visiting the States with our two small sons in tow and bought loads of books to bring back to the UK.

At Kennedy Airport, when we checked in our luggage we found it was seriously overweight. We could not meet the extra cost they demanded we pay. What were we to do?

I’m speaking here of a time long before the kind of security we have today, when there was far greater freedom and barely any security at all at airports. But even in those far off days your luggage still had to adhere to the required weight.

Seeing our anxiety, the guy at the check-in desk suggested that we ask someone else to take the luggage on our behalf.  Imagine doing that today!  “Just find a lone businessman who isn’t carrying any luggage and see if he’ll take yours,” was his advice.

I approached every available guy who looked friendly. Some seeing a young woman approaching them looked just a little bit too friendly. “What have you got in there?” they would question, pointing to my baggage.  “Drugs?”

“No just nappies” (diapers) I would say sweetly, “and a few books.”  Eventually one kind guy took pity on us and checked in a case on our behalf.

However, when our plane landed at Heathrow it was met by a posse of security guards and we were escorted off the plane into a private area where we were cross examined.  Our luggage was opened up and thoroughly checked before allowing us to continue with our onward journey. We still have many of those books  – the Berenstein Bear stories are now a particular favourite with our grandchildren.

More recently, about eight years ago, we were travelling from Taiwan via San Francisco and thence on to Washington.  First we had to go through immigration.   Our man asked us the normal questions. Where were we going? What was the purpose of our visit? And so on.   OH produced the required documents and showed them.  Normally, when people see that OH works in cancer research they are really interested in his work and we have never had any problems.  However, this time, the passport guy – whose name I remember was Michael Lee – frowned.

“I regret to tell you,” he said seriously,  “that you will not be allowed into the United States of America.”

The earth could have swallowed us up we were so astonished. Rooted to the spot. Dumbstruck. Not allowed into America? Why? What on earth were we going to do?

But before we could say anything, the immigration official smiled and said, “April Fool!”  Followed by, “You should see your faces!”

We had left Taiwan on April 1st – and here in San Francisco it was still April 1st.  Who has ever heard of anyone in immigration making a joke – ever? We wondered afterwards if he had been saying it to all the people coming through or had just singled us out? We will never know.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

MY DESERT ISLAND PLAYLIST.

Readers from outside the UK may not know of this well known programme which has been on the radio since 1942. You are asked to imagine that you are stranded on a desert island and to choose which eight pieces of music you would like to have with you – assuming you have something on which to play them!  Over the years many famous people have given their choices and their explanations for them. From Marlene Dietrich to George Clooney.

During Lockdown my writers’ group asked us to imagine what music we would like to hear if we were stranded on a desert island. This was my choice. It would be interesting to know if you agree with it and/or what music you would choose. I have included links to all of the tracks. Please comment below and let me know what you think.

As Time Goes By – Dooley Wilson (from the film Casablanca)

Every couple has their song and this is ours. It is a film we have seen many times and get something new out of it each time we see it. It would remind me of my husband and all the great times we have had together in nearly fifty years of marriage.

Only the Lonely – Roy Orbison

This song reminds me of when I was around 13. My parents made me go to Maurice Jay Dance Classes and this was one of the few songs they played that made me actually want to dance. It was the year I discovered boys (and they me) and the year I got my first Valentine!

In My Life – The Beatles

I have always been a fan of the Beatles.  The lyrics to this song move me as much now as they did when I first heard them in 1965.

Mozart Clarinet Quintet in A major, K581

This is my favourite piece of classical music. I find it incredibly soothing and relaxing. I first heard it when I saw the film, Le Bonheur in 1965. I went into our local record shop and asked if they had the soundtrack from Le Bonheur. Oh, they said, laughing, you mean the Clarinet Quintet by Mozart! That was my introduction to classical music and the start of a lifelong love of Mozart.

Leonard Cohen – Dance Me to the End of Love

This is a particularly beautiful, melodic and haunting Leonard Cohen song.  I know many people choose it as their wedding song but, in reality, it is incredibly sad.  According to Leonard Cohen, this song is actually about the musicians who were forced to play while the Jews in the concentration camps were herded into the gas chambers to their death.

Gymnopedie no 1 – Erik Satie

Our oldest son used to play this when he was learning the piano. I have a cassette tape which our three children made for me when they were little which they called, “Neidle Work”. It has all our children performing on it. This beautiful, calming music will remind me of my children when I am far away from them.

Somewhere over the Rainbow – Judy Garland

This is the original version, sung when she was in her 20s. I chose this because it is a song of hope for bleak times – whether it’s being isolated on a desert island or in your own home!  It was composed by  two Russian Jewish immigrants to the USA. “Yip” Harburg ( Isidore Hochberg) and Harold Arlen (Hyman Arluck). The song, which has become universal, was written to express their yearning for a better life.

I Threw it All Away – Bob Dylan (Nashville Skyline) 

In this album something remarkable happened, Bob Dylan found his voice. He had had a motor bike accident in 1966 and took time out from working. I believe this was the first album he made afterwards in 1969.  I love most of Bob Dylan’s music but in this album he actually sings quite tunefully!  Oddly, his voice went back to its old rasping mumble afterwards.

If you could choose only one, which would you choose?

If I could choose just one, it would be the Mozart Clarinet Quintet because it would help keep me calm and relaxed.

What inanimate object would you like to have with you?

I’d choose an endless stack of paper and pencils so I could write and draw to my heart’s content.

Aside from the Bible and Shakespeare, what book would you like?

I would choose The Oxford Book of Children’s Poetry. (OUP, 2007) It would remind me of my six grandchildren as it includes a number of their favourite poems.  Some of the poems are bound to be witty and that would cheer me up. I would try to learn as many as possible so I could recite them from memory.

Thank you for reading my blog.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems