took off my arm and gave it to you in a stew?
Got you there, got you there!
Why not?
It was the milkman and his wife who ruined it.
What made him marry a mad woman? The cream
curdled all, she would and all.
So instead of
doing nothing, you would rather do nothing! I
spit at you. That Ivy is a slummocky swine.
Her tits hang down. In really, you can’t see
her tits, she just has a bulge. She’s got no
tits, a long streak of gravy. What that Ivy
has done to me! How many times have I had
hot dinners than hot times? Where do they all
come from? She pinched my last piece of meat,
the piece I had been saving, she did, that Ivy.
But jesus will come for my end. He will lift
Me up into his heavenly boudoir and I will sing
with the angels all the night long. The stars
will shine down on Me when he comes, his Milky
Stout, and the sun will come out and beam upon
the starry firmament. And we shall all live
happily ever after ever until the end amen.
Aah, isn’t that nice. Except for Ivy,
she’ll not have an end, she’ll go on with her
gravy tits and sticky fingers all her life
until she dies and
Well well well! They can talk!
And what about the price of candles! A girl can’t
go on and on burning her wick at both ends, can
she? When
will we be allowed to see what really goes on?
Yesterday they won the war, all the Tommies came
home raving for it. Their only pride was between
their legs, like a dog’s tail. We worked over-
time. No fear of that, I said, when he came, I’ve
been a good girl, after my way, always fashionable,
I was, wore a hooped crinoline sort of dress,
starched sleeves, bare arse. Oh, we were proudish
then!
Now when I try to brush up my brushing, it hurts
under my armpit, hurts. I should go to the doctor.
He’ll help me, the doctor in Margery Street. Walk
up through Exmouth Market, buy some priest shoulder
at a stall, then up past that place in Amwell
Street that always smells of flux, opposite the
other church, and down into Margery Street, rest
my feet. Good doctor, he is, he’ll heal my armpit,
nasty nagging pain and then it comes sharply, ouch!
Or some smoked salmon scraps, not shoulder, only
a tanner a quarter, bits off the edges,
bones, scraps, one of my fondest favourites,
smoked salmon scraps from Exmouth Market, chew
them, get the bits out, just as good as they
pay earth for, lots more.
Hungry again, nothing
more till breakfast, there’s worst to come.
My one true, love. His hair was ravenblack, his
eyes were green, he stood four foot three in
his bare, the first one. My one two. One true,
several since then. He jostled me in the public
bar when I was a scrubber. I must have been
forty by then, a mere. The milk stout I remember
coming out of quart bottles. No one must know.
How many beans since then? There must have been,
one after one after one after one after one after
one, no No!
These things make us all. Try for the sky. Jesus
will. Not in here you won’t. Was jesus a shepherd?
Did they have sheep in the desert? He could
make food for them, fish and bread, wish he could
make me some now, I’m hungry. They don’t feed
us here. In my day I’d pop down the shop on the
corner for a quarter of Wall’s luncheon meat and
a tin of peas. That’s a good feed.
What’s she at now? Is she coming down here again,
yes. But not the twitcher, ha, she’s left
the twitcher up on the stage. Good.
Here comes horrible Ivy creeping down the table!
Ivy the creeper, after the work. They must be
finished. Haven’t done any. Who cares, who cares?
Can’t make me work. Just try it!
Ivy the creeper-
crawlie, can’t touch me!
You are a stinky woman!
Twitcher’s up on the stage, meeeeahr!
Now she’ll come to me next, without her twitcher.
Now.
Why should I work?
Leave
me, leave me! While there is no pie
we make hay, six times seven sends you to heaven,
whompot, whompit, whampit! It was a lively
leading lido when we first could greet groaning the
great dawn green with grassy longings, if only I
could now, how now how how?
This must be enough to be going on with,
there’s always tomorrow, after all, always – Pass
the Parcel, what’s this, I love games. Pass the
Parcel and I’m the winner, the postman brings me
a parcel, brown paper, must be mine, I’m a winner,
post today, late for Christmas, make sure I’m the
one who gets the lovely surprise at the end. Some-
thing to look forward to!
Off we go!
Next to me, me! Parcel for me!
Open it, the music’s stopped. Feels
soft, strip off the paper. What can it be?
Music. Oh. You bastard sod!
Cow woman Ivy, answering back, she always on my
back! Get off my back, you cow Ivy!
Next to me!
Here again. Stink. What is it?
Hold on to it. Unwrap some more. Yes, stink.
Rules? All right, have it!
I won’t be interested in your game any more, won’t
play any more. Stinking rotten game. Whose
game do you particularly, the long ones, I could
always give rise to a long long one, it was my
speciality in those days. Madam had four in
her room, she would give one to us girls as a
favour, she would, and I was always the most
special favourite, I was, I was, I was, I was,
I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was,
1 was, I was, I was, was, was,
was!
All the bees, bottom, bum, behind, buttocks,
ARSE!
I know what killed him, I know what killed him
that night, too much of a good thing, that’s
what killed him, heart attack during the night
the doctor called it, but I know it was too
much of a good thing that killed him.
He was a good husband to me,
I had eighty children by him, too much of a good
thing done for him in the – Now what?
Travel!
I hate exercise. But
the twitcher!
Ooooh, so fat I can hardly move. Waddle,
waddle, what’s it matter now, don’t have to
attract the fellers any longer, so what’s it
matter? More a job to keep them away, ha ha!
Ha ha, that Ron, ha!
Round. Round. Keep away from that
stinking Ivy. One of these days she’ll bring
me to such a point that I’ll forget myself and
dot her one where she won’t like it at all, no.
Where no one likes it.
My true love’s hair was red, red as the dawn,
my one true love. His eyes were brown, he stood
/>
four foot umpteen in his boots. My one two,
three four, who’s counting? Ha ha! I bumped
into him as I was sloshing the floor in the
Gents. He stumbled over my bucket and there we
were on the floor, at it among the Jeyes and
Lysol. He swept me off his feet. I was quite a
young thing then, stout with it, I enjoyed it,
who’d have thought it, in those days?
That Ron has sat down, so
shall I, twitcher or no twitcher, she must give
it him first, if she’s fair, the twitcher, he
sat down first, Ron.
We waved and waved as he went by, King George the
Sixth, they let us off dirty to wave from the
upper windows, it was so exciting, us girls, it
turned me over, truly it did, waiting for hours
we were in the hot sun, it was late December.
And the banners were out, we waved our union
jacks, and cheered and cheered. It was quite
good. That was at the time when I was afraid I
might become Queen myself one day – no
twitcher if she’s going to run a tourney, good.
What’s that? Your breakfast milk? Yes, I’ll bet
you, Ron. All I’ve
got that you’d want, Ron, is a quiet feel in the
toilet before bed.
Shake.
Two lots of breakfast milk for me, yes,
always too many cornflakes and not enough milk,
that’ll be nice, something real nice to look forward
to. There they go.
Silly old fool got himself hit.
And again! Won’t get me two lots. Never mind.
I’ll get a feel.
Three times! Ron certainly backed the right one.
You shall have it, Ron, never fear, you
shall have it. Wonder what he’ll feel? My
twat is favourite, or at least it used to be.
Or perhaps he wants me to hold his horrible.
Or bag of creepy skin? Anyway, it’ll
be short, Ron, I’ll promise you that.
No, shan’t listen! Bung
my ears up!
This big meat pie, so big
you could hardly get yourself round it. So big.
Three of us made it together, for the Club. In
those days they let you, and my friend Edie got
me together with all this lard and flour. It
must come soon. Bought lots and lots of meat,
very expensive. For the upper crust we had sea-
gulls, and this tower like the Eiffel Tower it
was in the middle. It held up the crust very
nicely with just a little point sticking out.
Ooooh, it did taste nice! Wasn’t there none left
over for the curates?
We were good in those days, in spite
of that rationing. You had to be good to get
anything off of grocers and suchlike. They had
a marvellous time of it, having it off in the
back stores.
Where are they now, the martins and perhaps?
All dead. No Edie, Frank, Johnnie, Doug, Maeve,
Dil, no, none of them.
Where do they all go? Where are they now? Where
am I now? How can all these things be here,
and not them? That would be a
curious caper, as he used to say
I asked for a job once, where are
your references, they said You’ve
got to have the right pieces of paper, you see,
at the time you want the
I want a jobbies
It is very confusing, laughing
Laugh! Laugh,
laugh, I nearly died
We went round the halls
one night, lead in his pencil, more like a great
big His blood pressure was high, laugh,
you never saw anything like it! We
were in a box, boxes of chocolates, programmes,
as many cigarettes as you could eat. A very good
show but I know what he was after with his great
purple pen!
Like a lick of my seaside, he would say.
I would
In the first place there were too many
there, in the third it was neither here nor
there but underneath, where we all liked it,
underneath, pass me the deeoyleys, she would say,
just like that, pass – Good! That Ivy’s getting
it! It’s a change, give her the twitcher, House
Mother! Now she’s in trouble, bitch Ivy,
fat slummy greasy Ivy! Fatty Ivy chop, buy them
at the family butcher’s.
So what?
She’s giving us the benefit, again. Lovely,
have it off, let’s all see
Oh, she
threw her clothes over the dog!
Now the other
that’s it
Oh, I always enjoy this
bit, it reminds me of the old days when I was out
working. . . . How far now?
Oops!
They’re all off, all,
Hoorah!
Never with a dog, we went to the
Dogs’ Home to choose one but came away without one,
I couldn’t have kept it anyway
My new dress is stained with custard.
Who did that, now? It must have been that
Ivy, I know it was that Ivy! Cow!
Custard cow, taking no notice, getting her own back
because my tits are better than hers, custard cow,
cowardy custard cow. True love, blue
eyes, green, six foot if an inch, he was tall as
well with it, scrubber I was, the first, first
Listen to her!
No, doesn’t matter
Sioned Bowen
age 89
marital status widow
sight 50%
hearing 40%
touch 35%
taste 55%
smell 45%
movement 20%
CQ count 8
pathology contractures; diabetes mellitus; colonic diverticulitis; benign renal carcinoma; lesion of alimentary tract; paraplegia; among others.
… tasty
meat then
that house, the kitchen itself could seat
twenty of us, did at Christmas before we served them, it
was warmer than the servants’ hall, that word worries
me still, always hated to think of myself as a servant, he
didn’t, almost revelled in it, he did, knew his place and that
was a servant’s place, indeed this custard,
slop and greens, how can she, in that kitchen
there were great bowls we broke the eggs into for custard,
real custard, the arm you needed to beat that many would fell
an ox, two of us girls would take turn and turn about, some-
times my arm hurt so much that that kitchen
was so big twenty of us could the
mahogany cupboards, sets of drawers with brass handles, how
I hated brass, a waste to have brass to keep clean, but then
he would say it was good
my soul indeed,
what he was interested in was not my soul
the old sod
with his great stomach, the stomach he had on him
Why not, he said,
Because not, I told him
The stomach on him, he’d be round the
kitchen spooning out the leavings in the big oven trays,
laughing if Cook or anyone tried to stop him, dodging round
and knocking things over with his great stomach and fat
arse. I know.
There was too much room in that kitchen,
Cook used to say,
even when she had to cook for sixty, there were that many
guests there on occasion, oh dear me yes
The mahogany cupboards, the whole range to
blacklead, eggs to beat, the meringues the sisters liked
too much, we used to put the yolks in scrambled eggs the
next morning, it was the best way to use them up.
Years afterwards
went into Town one week and there he was, years after,
outside the Bear, his great stomach even bigger
grinning
I felt my insides twist, I couldn’t help
myself, he had the effect on me.
In summer the sun used to beat down
on the range, it used to make it that hot
working there, double.
My name is
Sioned, I work here, you’re a pretty thing
How could I see it coming?
Clear up now, I’ll help, I can still move, you know, push
at the wheels, I’ll help, get the plates together, there,
lift – Oh no! I didn’t mean
to drop them, Miss!
I wouldn’t try to
feed the doggie, you’ve told us not to.
Yes, I deserve it.
cah, cah, cah Goats
in the paddock, there. We had goats, then, never ate it
ourselves, but the sisters did. I never liked it, I wasn’t
squeamish, no, but the sisters
No,
I won’t sing her song. I think it’s silly, so
she can do the other thing.
As though it mattered, it wasn’t my fault,
no, they can clear up on their own, a little mess
like that.
What matters most
old age long ha ah ah!
ha ha ha ha ha!
future’s dim
hymn
most important thing
through
ha ha! Nearly choked then.
I think it’s so silly, they
can all go and do the other thing, I’m tired.
.
.
Oh! Must have dozed off. Ivy’s giving out the
work, that’s good, always liked something to do,
never idle, keeps you going, idle hands make
idle work, get down to it, I can do this, fancy
goods again, it’s hard for me with my fingers but
I can do it if I set myself to it, yes, where’s
the glue, ah. Roll it round nice and smooth, hold
it tight, snip it off, glue, glue, loverly glue,
and bob’s your uncle!
Oh, I can do these. I’ll beat Ivy today, I’ll do
more than she can, if she lets me have enough
paper. Roll it round, nice and smooth, hold it
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