An ABC of memories

An ABC of memories

Abseiling, aged eleven

Breaking up for summer holidays

Climbing Pen-y-Ghent

Dancing in a show for the millennium

Expectantly waiting for A Level results (in vain, long story)

Furniture shopping

Getting caught in a storm, barefoot

Holding hands by the Coliseum in Rome

Invigilating an exam

Journeys to Glasgow, repeated for a year

Kitkats and irn bru in china mugs

Learning sign language by night

Making jenga towers with young people

Nestled up on a sofa with a dvd

Overcast days in the Lake District

People and Planet Regional Representative for Yorkshire

Quacking from the park, disturbing sleep

Rolling down the hill in the playground

Scrabble, wine and cake

Tulips on our kitchen table

Unicorn riding on the beach (in dreams perhaps?)

Volunteering with Brownies, aged fourteen

Writing poetry in the shadow of Chester Cathedral

Xylophones in primary school music lessons, played badly

Youth club canal boat trip (and falling in the water)

Zesty homemade lemonade in the sun by York walls




You’ll know me by the legs

Twisted around and around

Each other

Vines strangling and choking


You’ll know me by the penetrating

Cold of my skin, the shivering

Marble statue

Posed in front of you


You’ll know me by the child’s wrists

Fragile, weakened by trauma

Outlined by silvery scars

And the ghosts of my past


You’ll know me by the inked

Memories; a camera, a daisy

Sketched on in an attempt

To reclaim the body I rent


You’ll know me by the solitary

Silver stud in my left ear

Nestled alongside a natural pinprick:

How my mother identified newborn me


You’ll know me by the book

Clutched to chest, the camera

Round my neck and the paw

Placed in my left hand


You’ll know me, even when faceless.

One of the prompts from the girl in a hat that I mentioned yesterday was ‘Ways they’d find you in a faceless line-up’ which was a really interesting idea.  I did try writing a list but I think I’m so unaware of myself, there’s such a distinction between mind and body that I really struggled.

List poetry: Jobs I’ve had

There’s a great post by the girl in the hat over at The Daily Post about poetry from lists including a number of prompts.  I’ve added them all to my list of ideas to return to but here’s a completely unedited list of jobs I’ve had:

Jobs I’ve had

Menial farm work for a father I love

But love wasn’t enough

Piecemeal wages required


3am start at the newsagents

Inserting supplements into weekend papers

Who knew that was a job


Graduated to serving in the same establishment

Sleazy customers and £1 of penny sweets

Each individually counted


Two summers in customer services

In a college, old man wanted to learn pottery

Could he make a frog rather than a nude?


Three weeks stuffing envelopes

So good they kept me the summer

Filing and photocopying


Three months in a medical school

Followed by two sessions

Pretending to be a patient


A couple of days temping

In an office without capacity

To assign me tasks


Nine months in an office

Filled with playground politics

And added alcohol


Thrown in the deep end

Personal Assistant to the Head of Department

Once you learn the language, it’s easy to swim


Final destination, same office

Same team yet numerous masks

Trialled over four years