Where once the fishermen did shit
And wipe their arseholes with dead carp
Where industry killed off its own
And misery was sold as hope
Where young men snapped clay pipes for luck
And toiled their death when the tide was out
That's where my father slipped in mud
And landed in a tampon dump
And broke his stupid head in two.
Beneath the rotting Wandsworth Bridge
The place where he was born.
LOL
ReplyDeleteI get the idea that this might just be a true story.
It is a true story. We used to go down along the river bank and look for clay pipes and old bottles. This day we was on a real dirty, muddy, slippery, sewage dump part of the bank and because it was on an inner bend it was full of large rocks and stones too. My father slipped and landed in all the shit and split his head open. He was concussed and I helped him up and back up top. He was pouring blood. Luckily where we came back up there was a huge Safeways along the bank and so he staggered in there, covered in shit and mud and blood looking for bandages and anti-septic cream. Of course, we got thrown out! And so I had to go in alone, get the first aid and then bandage his stupid head up. All the way home he kept telling me, "I think I've got that tetanus.. my jaw feels stiff!" Well, if he did his mouth never ceased up and he was still going on about the next day.
ReplyDeleteAlmost in the same place a few years later we found an old tramp dead. He was face down and so it wasn't too bad a sight.
Ps: that was my stepfather, ot my blood father. 90% of the time when I speak of 'my father' it'll be my step father.
ReplyDeleteThat is a very funny story - or at least the picture I have of it in my head is.
ReplyDeleteI don't suppose you were too amused at the time though.
I love this bridge. Always under construction. I remember feeling alone in London before I knew you. You were probably in France. You know, I'm a Southern Girl with Southern Morals, being the large Russian immigrant area it is. My grandmum had just called me "a stupid pretty girl who doesn't realize that in London, I'm just a dime a dozen." I am nothing special. I took a walk later that night for petty teenage reasons. I had dreams of living in the West End. I had wanted more for mysekf at just 20...suddenly the bridge being under construction and the wind whipping around my long long hair drew me closer. I wanted to jump! I felt alive standing on that bridge with the elements flowing through my hair. I tried to jump. Ben had a fit and pulled me off
ReplyDelete...and we walked towards our council flat, bickering like lovers do when all the love, passion and patience is gone. Always remember: "it takes strength to be gentle and kind" just like my Shane. Love, T
ReplyDeleteDon't know if you still get comments from this blog but I'm gonna say this anyway regardless...
ReplyDeleteWow! Short but very sweet. You've got a great body of work (your memoirs, poems novels and dare I say paintings and art as well).
Thanks to your friend Cristina Cruz (I'd hate to stand next to her tho, her body looks sexy and amazing! Some women have all the luck Lol!) on your FB page, I got re-aquainted with some of your older stuff and it still stands the test of time. It's all crying out to be dusted off, collated and put out there officially on the world stage.
Keep writing, keep publishing. You've got a well-earned place in this world and it's time you occupied it so more people can enjoy your work.
CalamityK