thinking outside the box
You come into this life with nothing and your leave with nothing. So, I’m wondering how I’ve got a mountain of boxes full of stuff. Stuff that has been accumulated over the years from house moves, travelling and family life.
The thing is, the longer you have this stuff the harder it is to part with. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no hoarder and with every move I’ve had numerous runs to the tip and charity shop. But, when you whittle it down and decide only certain stuff should come with you then it’s harder to finally part with it.
Being closer to 60 than 50, I decided that the stuff had to be addressed. I started with the photographs by getting box files for each family member and sorting them. It seemed like a good plan but I wasn’t prepared for seeing my life in pictures in a matter of hours.
When I fed back to the others that my afternoon was spent sorting out photos I couldn’t begin to convey the emotional rollercoaster I’d been on. Each opened box took me back to a particular place and time. School report cards, favourite toys, a penguin puppet bought at Edinburgh zoo. Too much to take in.
Not knowing what to do with all this sentimental treasure, I took photos of some of the stuff on my phone and sent them to the kids who have long flown the nest. Smiley faces and ‘ahhh I remember that’ pinged back as replies. So what do you think I should do with it all I asked?
‘Bin it’ was the reply.
My heart was cut in two. But they were right. They’re out there living their lives in the moment, not sitting in the garage with a load of old boxes.
One of the books we all loved reading was the Alfie and Annie Rose stories. In one tale, Alfie saw his Grandad having a bonfire with all his old letters and photos. Alfie was told the only things you can keep are inside your head. So, with that in mind, I continued my quest to sort out the dreaded boxes.
Then, there they were, wrapped up in tissue at the bottom of a box: my Singing Kettle earrings! Many a great Saturday afternoon was spent with Artie and Cilla and the gang singing our hearts out to the countless songs in their repertoire. Now you might be the same generation as me, taking your kids to see them, or you may well have been one of the kids taken along by your parents. If you were either you’d remember the fun had by kids and adults alike. I may not have done the dressing up but I did wear my kettle earrings.
I asked my grown up kids if they remembered the old faithful numbers like ‘Kenny the Kangaroo’ and ‘Bunny Fou Fou.’ Their faces looked puzzled, but when I mentioned Over the Irish Sea it came back to them, I think. I could remember, word for word, the songs and we even had the video! Sitting in the Gaiety or Irvine Magnum pelting out ‘Ye cannae Shove Yer Granny Aff A Bus’ with my kids and my friends kids brought back memories of good old fashioned happy times.
On to the next box and, amongst bits and bobs, I found a page ripped out of a notebook with a list written in my hand writing: five books with a large asterisk beside each title. Being a certain age I had to think long and hard about when I’d written this note and why I hadn’t as yet read these books.
The five titles were:
· A Disaffection by James Kelman
· Gooseberries by Anton Chekhov
· The Gathering by Anne Enright
· The Art of Fiction by John Gardner
· The Death of Bees by Lisa O’Donnell
Having more time on my hands now than when I wrote the list, I ordered all the books and read them all in the order they appeared on the list. All excellent reads and all very different, so I couldn’t possibly pick a favourite. What I will say is I read The Death of Bees in two days and couldn’t put it down.
The book starts:
“Today is Christmas Eve. Today is my birthday. Today I am fifteen. Today I buried my parents in the backyard. Neither of them were beloved.”
Who wouldn’t keep reading?
Set in Glasgow, Lisa O’Donnell tells of two sisters, Marnie and Nelly, who didn’t have the best start in life. It’s beautifully written, is incredibly sad and proved addictive reading, taking me on another roller coaster of emotions.
Driving through the streets of Glasgow, looking up at tenement blocks with a tapestry of lit windows, you can often wonder who lives there and what their lives are like. You want to think that happy families are sitting watching telly or sharing the news of their day.
However, many will have Marnies and Nellys trying to make sense of the hand they have been dealt. So many children are being let down by the system and by those who should be caring for them.
I’ve taught children over the past thirty years in a variety of educational settings and there were too many Marnies and Nellys. They were there thirty years ago, are there today and will be there in the future. After working with ‘looked after children’ and finally having some time at hand in 2013, I was compelled to write about the uphill climb many kids face. For some it was a struggle even to get out the house in the morning to get to school. Many faced the stigma of where they came from, of how they dressed or how they spoke. Ten at Last Ted was a coming of age book and on the back cover I wrote : ‘This is a work of fiction, reality is much worse.’
I first met Kelly Morris - the driving force behind this magazine- when she contacted me after reading this book. We spent many an evening discussing the issues facing young people in Scotland today. It has been refreshing to hear her speak about her own journey and that it wasn’t where you came from but where you are going that matters.
Looking back on my journey so far there are many things that I have dispensed with from the boxes and some other things that will now only remain inside my head.
Looking down at those bright red Singing Kettle earrings in my hand, I wrapped them back up in their tissue and tucked them back in a box, granting them an indefinite reprieve.