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My Cat Jim Something happened when I was 8, That for me was truly great, We got a black and white cat called Jim, Whose life in Somerset did begin. My grandparents brought him up to The Fairway, Where from then on, he did stay, He was a cat like no other, To me he was more like a brother. I found Jim to be very wise, Great wisdom there in his yellow eyes, Then one day a tabby cat came to the door, One we’d never seen before. She meowed and meowed, let me in please, Whilst on the news, there were Kurdish Refugees, So we were kind and let her in, And her life with us did begin. We called her MeMe because her meow said that, So she became our second cat, When Jim saw MeMe he looked bored, And usually her he just ignored. Him, she really did not impress, He tolerated her, never the less, Seven years later, MeMe got run down, We were sad she was no longer around. For her crossing that road when she was run over, Was like swimming the Channel from Calais to Dover, But Jim always made it look easy, Whether it howled a gale or was just breezy. Jim had a lovely black and white coat, He lived 18 years, old enough to vote, My friend Julia had a cat we called miJ, Because he was Jim’s mirror image. He may have been Jim’s reflection, But between those cats there was little affection, When they met they would start mewling, It sounded like they were duelling. Actually it was Caterwauling, But it didn’t sound appalling, They’d sing a beautiful duet, Whenever they accidentally met. At 18 Jim had Kidney failure and dodgy back feet, So the vet came and put him to sleep, His last meal was a cat food Turkey Dinner, As it was yummy, it proved to be a winner. He also got milk, cream, butter and cheese, For which he begged, for me please, Then the vet kindly ended his battle, And his life expired with a death rattle. My image of Jim is still very clear, It’s as if he was still here Sylvie Wright June 2016
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My Dad My dad was born in York, There he learned to walk and talk, Mum and dad were really smart, They went to Leeds University 13 years apart, At M.I.T dad completed his Ph.D., So the States he did see, At Sheffield University they did meet, Maybe he thought she was rather sweet. However he was a little bit slow, In letting his emotions show, But eventually they went out, After many dates there was no doubt. He knew Sally would be his future wife, Who he’d love for the rest of his life, On holiday they climbed up Cheviot Hill, And on their way up they ate their fill. Those Bilberries must have gone to my dad’s head, Because at the top, “Marry me” he said, They bought a house on The Fairway, My mum still thinks it was a wonderful day. Dad lectured in Mechanical and Process Engineering, But he was not at all God fearing, He went to his church every Sunday, Where with the congregation he did pray. The God he knew was warm and kind, The kind of God I’d love to find, And going to church he never neglected, By everyone he was well respected. He was teetotal, he didn’t drink, His mind always clear and able to think, Nobody saw my dad getting pissed, My dad was a true Methodist. My dad practiced Christianity in the way he did live, He always seemed to have something to give, With him you never seemed to be judged, But from his morals he never budged. Dad took older people to church in his car, Because otherwise for them it was too far, He took Mr & Mrs Hartley and Mrs Twaddle, It meant the world to them, for him it was a doddle. He asked little old ladies to help him across the road, When they did so, the traffic slowed, Dad seemed to know everyone in town, Yes they knew him, Dennis Brown. Dad was heavily involved with Labour, Vote for someone else, do me a favour, In Hallam he stood as the candidate, But the vote he got was never that great, As a result he never did win, But he lost with a smile and a grin, My mum lectured in Russian in the Arts Tower, As kids we went there for the odd hour. The lifts were unusual as they had no doors, You had to jump off, they didn’t stop at floors, The first child born to them was a son, Then 2 years later was born more fun. This was a girl, which was me, Who completed our family, No that’s not true, that’s not reyt, Because something happened when I was 8. We got a black and white cat we called Jim, Whose life in Somerset did begin, My grandparents brought him up to The Fairway, Where from then on, he did stay. My dad was a real gent, And was careful with the money he spent, We weren’t super rich, but we never went without, I had great parents, there is no doubt. Dad never swore, he just said “blurge baggers”, Even when telling us off, his finger all a waggers, Dad took me to athletics, orchestra and choir, A lot of time this did require. My dad was usually very humble, But at Wednesday matches he did grumble, Sometimes dad bought a quarter of sweets, For me these were lovely treats. For him Sherbet Lemons, for mum Pear Drops, For these were the sweets they liked lots, My mum loves a dark chocolate bounty bar, She thinks they are the best by far. One time we went cycling as a family, And many sites we did see, We went to Scarborough, Whitby and Boggle Hole, Doing this trip was rather bold. Especially after dad toppled down a bank, When I saw that my heart really sank, Thankfully he got up, there was nothing wrong, So we were able to keep cycling on. On holidays and walks for energy’s sake, Mum would give us Kendal mint cake, It helped us get up cliff and hill, But following mum was still quite a skill. I asked for Mental Kink Cake when being daft, In the middle of nowhere we always laughed, In sunshine, I would get a tan, So of hot sun I was a fan. But dad ‘Mr Brown’ turned bright red, So in the shade he stayed instead, My mum is vegetarian, so no meat was dad fed, If he missed meat, he never complained or said. As he didn’t make mum prepare him meat, Instead it became an occasional treat, My mum’s favourite numbers are 7 and 3, A love for these numbers she passed onto me. My least favourite number was 42, But dad brilliantly changed it to fortitude, Now that number doesn’t bother me, Anyway I’ll shortly be 43. Dad was always on time he was never late, His favourite number was 88, Dad loved the Ying Tong song by The Goons, He’d sing it like a kid with party balloons. Ying tong diddle I po, Ying tong diddle I po, That is how the silly song did go, He loved Geordies and Northumberland, He loved Alnmouth Beach with its sand. He really loved the Cheviots and the sea, So up there my mum, his ashes set free. Sylvie Wright June 2016
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My Grandparents My grandparents lived in Northumberland, I loved building castles in the sand, We enjoyed going to the river Aln, And seeing Percy the Pelican, We enjoyed going to that lovely river, Seeing the pelican made us all aquiver. What’s the opposite of a Pelican, Try and guess, if you can, I’ll tell you, oh no I shan’t, Ok I will, it’s a Pelican’t, Then my Grandparents left Alnmouth, They move way, far down South. They moved all the way to Somerset, After this, holidays there, we did get, They were happy on their arrival, They moved to the village of Curry Rivel, At Frankley services, we’d meet them there, Driving half way each was pretty fair. I enjoyed having sausage, beans and chips, This was a rare treat and I loved it to bits, Sometimes Grandma made us a promise, That we’d go to Cricket St Thomas, We saw lions, giraffes, elephants and monkeys too, Many animals did we see at this wonderful zoo. Sometimes we got up with the Lark, And went to Longleat Safari Park, We had to go round by car, But it was the best way by far, To see wild animals roaming free, And looking relaxed and very happy. Sometimes the monkeys jumped on a car roof, While other wild animals remained aloof, Sometimes the monkey grabbed a windscreen wiper, This was exciting and made us feel hyper, Going round Longleat house I found quite a bore, Maybe because it was a very long tour. We also went in Longleat maze, But us it didn’t ever faze, Because my grandparents were so clever, We didn’t get stuck in there for ever and ever, Yes my grandparents were really quite smart, And always got us home before it got dark. On other days we went to One Tree Hill, Rolly pollying down was quite a thrill, Sometimes we went to Burrow Mump, Or it might be a different tump, We also drove to Ham Hill, Where we ran, like a windmill. All across Somerset we did forge, Yes we made it to Cheddar Gorge, At Wookey Hole we went into the cave, Doing this to us felt really brave, On our helmets a light it shone, So we could see everything and everyone. From the cave ceiling we saw stalactites, And up from the ground there were stalagmites, Sometimes these joined together, Which was both beautiful and very clever, Sometimes our parents joined us there, And Somerset, with them we could share. My dad usually walked ahead very fast, While my grandad always trailed in last, On his head always a deer stalker, But it didn’t make him a fast walker, As notes he was always jotting, Especially when he was bird spotting. Or botanising plants and wild flowers, He loved doing this; he could do it for hours. Wherever he went he took his binocs, This was an item he never forgot. Grandad led many an organised walk, But only one to one did he talk. This is because he was hard of hearing, And many voices together were not endearing, We’d walk along with our grandma, Until we reached their small car, When we got in grandma gave us a treat, A lovely mint toffee, Murray Mint sweet. Grandma made lovely picnics, Which didn’t include gin and tonics. But cheese sandwiches, biscuits and lovely cake, Which at home she did bake, Sometimes around the dining table we did sit, Where we enjoyed a game of Pit. We also enjoyed the game of Speed, Also at my grandparents, a lot I did read, I enjoyed the secret seven and the famous five, They solved many murders, but did themselves, survive, I also enjoyed reading Mallory Towers, I’d got engrossed and could read for hours. Sometimes we had a game of chess, I seldom won, but enjoyed it, never the less, At Friends Meeting everyone did assemble, And my grandad’s leg there, often did tremble, Yes when he spoke his leg did shaker, So I suppose you could say he was a true Quaker. When at my grandparents, we made coconut macaroons, Holidays always flew by and were over too soon. Staying at my grandparents was the best, And I believe my parents enjoyed the rest. Sylvie Wright August 2016 |
