Writing for Fun
August 2015
From Space - Joan Bond
Some folk think if you live at Benfleet it really is right out in space, different attitudes I guess. But since constantly watching programs of that Brian Cox I look at things differently. I look at clouds and the sky all the time and now I feel I am on the edge of a planet looking at space. Watching pictures of our earth from other flights or whatever, where you can see us or where we are.
Just think of the future. I won't have to bother about time travel, it's bad enough getting to Southend sometimes but spending twenty years to reach Mars . . . I used to catch the 42 tram to Ma's, ooh those hard wooden seats and if you sat upstairs and it rained, you just got wet but Ma was always ready with a cuppa and homemade cakes.
That was the point, she was always there for you, a fund of gossip, advice and a cuddle; children now are being dumped on Grandparents or nursery 'cos the mums have to go to work. This is in a way good because I have noted they teach values to them, but they are really worn out. Or the ones in poverty struck homes where the father has dumped the family to go back to Africa etc. I listened to one of the immigrants at Calais, the dentist saying he sold his home and left his family to get a new life . . . what about their lives?
I also looked around at my place in life here. A home to myself, a pension adequate for me to live ok, plenty of grub if I need it. Times were hard in my childhood, dad had Rheumatic fever and was off work for six months and being in the building trade there was no sick money coming in, only a very little sum from the Odd Fellows, a sort of insurance. Mum did sewing and played the piano for the silent films but we, and I say we because I know now that often she didn't have a meal, were fed ok.
And because they had both been from large families they stayed at having one child as they knew the poverty caused by having to keep eight or so children.
I suppose we as a nation will have to find more space to live and will have to send people to the Isle of Wight. Did you ever read the story The Day Of The Triffids, when they had to send people there while killing off all the plants here? And they all escaped in boats, a thing that still goes on today – I think they call it Cowes Week.
I only know the goings on with outer space by watching Star ship but it doesn't seem very encouraging, that short skirted uniform. It just wouldn't look good on me, and where would I tuck in me vest and combinations. Didn't like the hair either, although I suppose I never had long curly locks. I also like my food, fancy just having tablets to keep you going! Still no washing up . . . couldn't keep the water in the bowl anyway, it would fly all over the place.
I am old now and though I just love being with all the young folk with ideas of what they plan is going to happen, not of looking back. I still like writing my own letters, having photographs in frames and sitting for at least an hour in the mornings reading the paper I even pay for goods with money – mostly the correct amount, which really amazes the cashier. I know I am a boring old fart but I love it, and reckon I have lived in the best years; might even stay long enough to meet my old ladies but I suppose they will all have retired from having fun and be moaning about their arthritis.
Well l've said my piece. The only way I can finish this missile – sorry missive – is . . .
Watch this Space!