
Maggi Green
Christmas Sausages
It was Christmas Eve. The skies were miserable and the streets dank and dreary. I was 8. My Mam was working harder than ever getting ready for Christmas, cleaning and baking and fussing about and my Dad was out of sorts. He was mostly a bad-tempered hypochondriac but he could be charming and funny and loving aswell. And we loved him. His temper that day was not improved by the discovery that there were no Palethorpe sausages for breakfast on Christmas morning.
He would only eat Palethorpe's sausages. He thought they were the best. He was always very rude about Wall's sausages. So I was bundled into my coat before I could protest too much and sent on a message to Villette Road where Adie's the Fishmonger sold Palethorpe's. Only, Adie's had closed early. My last chance was Walter Wilson's Grocer's Shop. Walter Wilson's had sausages alright but they were chipolatas, not proper fat sausages and they were skinless(even at 8 I knew this was wrong). They were also a nasty bright pink colour. Worst of all they were made by Walls.
I stared at the chill cabinet, frozen by indecision. These were the only sausages I was likely to find. But they were Wall's skinless chipolata sausages, not Palethorpe's. Damned if I did and damned if I didn"t. Time was running out. I decided it was better to have something than nothing and I took the independent decision to buy them, feeling a little bit proud of myself.
That didn't last long. There was murder when I got home, shouts of disbelief, in which 'Wall's' figured a lot, cries of "I 'told you!', lots of 'tch!' and shaking of the head. My Dad was behaving as if I had done something terrible to him on purpose. I tried to plead for sympathy. I did not think I deserved all this carry on when I had done as I was told as far as I could. He calmed down after a bit but the Christmas feeling was severely bruised and we were all a bit quiet before me and my brother went to bed.
There was no listening out for Jingle Bells that night, no delight in anticipation of the gifts to come. I was consumed by fury and determined to do something. I had to work out what I could do to turn the situation round and show my Dad to be in the wrong, as I believed he was with all my heart. I would show him!
I thought of those nasty looking bright pink chipolatas in the pantry downstairs and how much better Christmas would be if they had never been allowed in the house and it came to me that I could put things back the way they should have been. I had some money in a money box and expected more in my stocking. I would get up early, cook the sausages, eat them and give my Mam the five shillings they had cost.
I'm not sure if I slept at all. I was up at 5, dragging my sleepy 4 year old brother behind me. He always had a healthy appetite and a pound of sausages, especially Wall's, was a bit of a challenge for me on my own. I thought we could eat half a pound each but it turned out he wasn't very hungry at that time of the morning and I had to force and cajole him one sausage at a time. I think he ate three, maybe it was two and a half. And I, girlfully, ate the rest, even though I preferred Palethorpe sausages like my Dad. I could eat thirteen nasty sausages if I had to
When my Mam and Dad got up and I triumphantly gave them payment for the sausages, I was in more trouble. I knew I would be. But I sensed a moral victory. My Dad never apologised but he was a bit sheepish.
Later on I didn't feel like eating much Christmas Dinner.
This Is How Fish and Chips Should Be
This is how Fish and Chips should be:
First the fish should be fresh,
Fresh as the flick of a tail,
Tender, succulent but firm,
White, breaking easily into
Curved Flakes,
Delicately flavoured.
Encased in a fine, light,
But completely covering,
Crispy batter with
Rococo frills and curls.
The batter must be cooked
Inside and out.
Nobody likes
Fish covered in
Wallpaper paste.
Fat hot chips
Fluffy and soft inside
Crispy outside
Fried in
Dripping
Or something else
For vegetarians.
You only need
Salt and vinegar
And somewhere to sit
So you can eat them
As quickly as possible.
You don’t need
Mushy peas
Or Ketchup
But..
If you must…
Best of all
Eat within the sight
And sound
Of the Sea.
A new word every day
The address for a new word every day is dictionary.com.
The Teenager
Smooth
And sinuous
On the settee.
Her movement
Is rare
And then
Easy
And Economical.
She likes
The fleece
Because
Of her cold
Blood.
A Red Spitting
Cobra
Looks serene
Until
It opens
Its jaws.
The raised
Hood
Is a
Warning.
Snakes
In this
Family
Cannot
Fold
Their fangs.
Seven ways to know the Sea
In the sea
I am almost
Water.
Outside the Hotel Window,
The halyards
Chink and clink
Against the masts,
Singing us to sleep.
In the morning
The yachts are gone.
Here were Liburnians,
Illyrians, Greeks
And Romans,
Straining to move
Heavy wooden ships
And change the world.
The leaky life raft
Made to hold 35 people
Holds 50.
4 are dead already.
One is a child.
High Density Polyethylene,
Low Density Polyethylene,
Polypropylene,
PolyethyleneTerephthalate,
Styrene.
We have turned
The World’s Oceans
Into plastic soup.
At home,
A piece of
Pale green sea glass.
Listens to a shell.
Can you hear the dying?
The distant sound
Of a fairground Organ.
The smell of fish and chips
Shakespeare
OK.
I’m having an affair.
I haven’t been keeping it secret
It’s just..
It crept up on me.
And you know what a tart he is.
And fickle!
One minute it’s all
Parting is such sweet..etc
And the next he’s going on
About car batteries.
He can talk though,
Knows about everything.
I can, I do
Listen to him for hours.
I find myself repeating
Things he says,
Stories he tells.
Of course
I know I’m not
The only one.
I knew him at Uni.
He’s always been popular.
Yes, I know,
He’s married.
He married young.
He doesn’t bother with her much.
She stays in the Midlands
With the kids.
I think he might be Catholic.
He never says anything about it.
Probably the only thing
He doesn’t venture an opinion about.
Meanwhile he’s been all over
The world.
There is nowhere he can’t go.
We’ve had a few casual meetings
Over the years.
Last time was in London.
Well, the suburbs.
Alright. I went on purpose,
Engineered a meeting
And he followed me home.
Been a constant presence
Ever since.
Turned up at the pub.
He says Cupid is a wicked bastard.
I love him with enraged affection.
Not Going to Granda's Funeral
Public toilets
It seems ridiculous to have to point out in the 21st Century that we need public toilets. But we do. We need public toilets if we do not want people suffering the embarassment and humiliation of soiling themselves or having to dodge down back alleys and behind bushes, to say nothing of any physical discomfort involved.
In a cinema queue at the weekend , a woman in her sixties told me if she is going out she always thinks about the availability of toilets. If there are no accessible toilets in public places some people will stay at home rather than run the risk of being caught short, further increasing the growing isolation and loneliness that blights our society and particularly affects older people.
Would you be surprised to learn that there is no requirement that Councils should provide public toilets? The Public Health Act of 1936 gave councils the power to do so but there is no compulsion. In 2016, in answer to a Freedom of Information request, a council official stated:
"Liverpool City council does not own or operate any public toilets"
They used to. Maybe you remember some of them and you could write to me about them. The Victorians built many grand public buildings, including toilets. I have read that, in the last ten years, between 40% to 50% of public toilets in this country have disappeared. It is very hard to find reliable data. I do not know how many Liverpool used to have. I know that in 2007 and 2008 when Liverpool was preparing for and celebrating its year as Capital of Culture, Liverpool City Council sold off two public toilets for a total of £182,000. And subsequently welcomed 10 million visitors in 2008.
In 2008, the Commons Select Committee for Communities and Local Government criticised Liverpool (and Cardiff, Birmingham and Edinburgh) for poor toilet provision and recommended that local authorities should include provision of public toilets in their local strategies.
Liverpool City Council has said that there is plenty provision in bars, cafes, restaurants, museums, galleries and stations BUT many places discourage non-customers from using their toilets, in stations you often need a ticket to access the toilets. In other places the toilets are not easily accessible. If you are in a hurry or have mobility problems or have children, you may not have the time to cross town and go up to the sixth floor.
It is a basic human right to have access to a toilet. I believe there should be easily accessible staffed toilets in public areas: City Centres, Parks, Shopping Areas.
What do you think?
NOTE: The new demographic was close to mine. I tried to change the focus but decided also to change the tone
I WILL LOVE YOU EVERLY
Matched and balanced by genes
And by years of practice.
Singing with their Daddy
In cowboy outfits,
Then on their own,
All cheekbones and haircuts
In the 50s,
Waking up Little Susie,
Saying Bye-bye Love,
Being Cathy's Clown.
Their voices bending, curling
Dipping like twin kites,
Locked together
In an architecture
Of layering melodies,
Bracing, crossing,
Peeling away,
Leaving
A helix of harmony,
Sometimes filled with
A brief solo by Don
Instead of Phil
But mostly together -
Everly.