WßD A Pond in 2016
Windsor Street Days
Part VI
Chapter Four
One Sunday in Pershore ~ A Pond in 2016
I
What do I make of today? Perhaps it is because it is Sunday.
Sundays can be good days and also not-so-good days, especially when on my own. I wish I was not so much a thinker. I know it is a family joke, and Dad would emulate the statue of ‘The Thinker’, but it is deeper than that. My best way is to escape into my world, write jagged thoughts down, and then put them into a semblance of order.
That morning, 25 May 2016, a Wednesday, still hangs around. 14 June, likewise, although I was glad to read from the lectern that there is darkness now, but in the morning comes the light.
The car is the same. The family home is the same. Liverpool awaits but feels hollow. That terrifying afternoon on Liverpool Crosby Beach, the winds, the sun, the crashing surf, the sense of approaching loss. A stick. Find a stick! Carve the most important name in the sand.
There!
Now, sit down.
Allow the wind and the salt air to cleanse.
Slowly at first, and then like a pincer movement, the name is washed away. It isn’t though.
Mum’s name, carved in the sand, large and beautiful, is seen only by me and some seagulls and Nature. Not another soul is around.
Here, in Pershore Worcestershire, I realise that that day on the beach was the same as that equally terrifying night in 2011 when I realised, with no warning, that Dad was leaving. That was in the summer.
Many conversations by landline followed into and through Autumn, and even into early Winter. Early January, though, a sudden passing over. My friend, so early in the morning. The intercom. Coming up. Ah right. The front door is ajar, Andrew. I’ll put the kettle on. My case was already packed; I had the afternoon InterCity from Liverpool to Cheltenham. So, I’ll have a coffee at the CK. A pause. But why is Andrew here so early?
The front door opens. Hi Andrew, I’m in the lounge. A large ship is passing. You caught me on the…
Andrew?
An hour later, sitting quietly at CK. Always good to be amongst friends. Nothing said. I can relax and I’m on time for the InterCity later. The three Cs had kicked in. Be cool, calm, collected. Give no hint.
Arrival that evening in Cheltenham. Devastation. Suddenly I realised for the first time, just how similar I am in looks and deportment, mannerisms and personality to Dad.
Today, in Pershore, I’ll just write. It’s no good trying to communicate. I seem to be on a different planet. A world apart.
Writing, though, is a healing balm. I use my imagination. Write what I see, write what I think, allow my imagination to slip back into childlike thoughts, an inverse of that peculiar incantation that always foxed me at school … the child becomes the father of the man.
Die Symmetrie und Perfektion der Natur von RS. Alle Rechte vorbehalten. Der Himmel über Koblenz am 14 April. 2021. The Symmetry and Perfection of Nature by RS. All Rights Reserved. The skies over Koblenz on 14 April 2021.
II
The trees are on the turn,
Summer is passing.
A slight coolness pervades,
A rustling in the leaves overhead,
A brittleness - as in kindling,
not there in the greenery last week.
The Sun is slow to depart,
Lingering with the stunning skies
bewitching us each eve,
warming the hearts of gardeners
recalling the old lore …
Red sky at night shepherd's delight!...
… heaving a sigh of relief.
A week or two is with us yet, perhaps!
… Before the cold snap sets in
And the weaklings in the shrubbery are
there in the evening
but gone in the morning.
Or there in the morning
but gone by evening.
Ah! Such is Nature
the truth be told!
The dragonflies hover
over the garden pond.
Four-winged,
Emerald-green ethereal bodies,
Translucent.
Nature quietly reminds me
She was here way before
The three-speed office fan,
And will still be here
if all is gone.
The water is still, deep, dark, warm.
Beguiling, dangerously though, not!
An invitation…
To sit
To crouch
To ponder.
Yes, ponder...
… at life above and below water...
A little 'armadillo' scuttles across the Cotswold stone,
Pitching precariously on a sudden unseen ledge,
And, with bated breath, I watch
And then I can't but help to poke my nose in;
Pitching his end back up,
He, she or it, regains grip
And I catch a glimpse of Toad.
Oh, get away with you Toadie!
You've had plenty.
You won't miss that one, I'm sure!
And in my mind's eye, I catch Beatrix…
Of Potter fame
And Toad of Toad Hall
Ummh, well I always say that
Them that plays god
Is in for a sticky wicket
For sure
Oh, alright Toad
I won't do it again.
Anyway, I'm going in.
It's that very British hour.
Afternoon tea and toast,
And I'll throw crumbs into the pond
Your dominions - nay minions - love that, don't they!
They do indeed
HU-Hu-Ermm… I do too
I know. He-he
Be back shortly with the tray.
My sister's down the garden
At the industrial end,
All lines, bean sticks and runs and hessian nets,
And the hens are on the run
but safely penned in.
Foxy won't get them this time
I ponder further…
My finger enjoys the ripples it creates
A little 'weather storm' they'll be thinking, under,
And, hey, guess what, Toad?
Oh, no. Don’t tell me … Finn's here.
Ever since he fell in, this place has never been
The same.
He keeps tickling me!
You’d better watch out.
Came home from school today
Deputy head Boy!
Haha! I know.
Don't worry. I hear he's confined to the sofa.
But be warned, Toad!
Knowing Finney, he'll soon be out.
So just make sure you all have your defences up.
I think your kettle's boiling.
It is Toad. I'll go and bring the tray out
We'll have afternoon tea together, hey!
And Sam's made the scones
And Grandad's baked the bread
And… hey up Toad, Gran's coming back
Look lively!
The leaves gently settle back in place,
Resting on the warm summer breeze,
Kissing the water's surface
Toad is safe.
And Frog is down t’other end
Content to mind his part of the pond.
A pond skier takes advantage
Skimming across water that
must, to him, her or it, seem like an ocean.
Nature, Supreme!
The whirl of four-winged dragonflies above,
The galosh-splosh of wellington boots strolling by,
Reminding me to cover the seat before I sit down...
The summer shower was very brief but heavy
And there's nothing worse than sitting on a wet seat!
Who were you talking to?
No one!
Ermm … they’ll be coming to take you away!
Sisters!!!
finis
Good! I feel easier now.
Come on, beauty, let’s purr back to ‘Chelters’,
and later on,
we’ll head up home to Liverpool.
Worcestershire is beautiful,
but let’s head back now
to our County,
Gloucestershire.
—
Composed on 4 September 2016
6 February 2025
All Rights Reserved
LIVERPOOL
© 2025 Kenneth Thomas Webb
Digital Artwork by ©2024 KTW © 2024 IBM
Composed on 4 September 2016
Images all rights reserved to the author.
