TONY ON SHOP, WINTER & MORE

Including One Single Impression, Manic Monday and Sunday Scribblings.
Have you had a go yet? Find an award below.

One of my earliest memories was of being regularly pushed up a hill from the railway station at 5 o’clock in the morning in a big, old pram. I was sat on top of a huge pile of newspapers, collected by my mother to sell in our newsagent’s shop. How she managed that load up that hill, I’ll never know.

It was a small shop.

We also sold cigarettes, sweets and stationary. It was in the centre of a small town and we lived above the shop. My mother and father would take it in turns serving in the shop, and some days it would be open for up to 14 hours.
I was twelve when my mother died and it seemed as if the whole town came out to say goodbye to her – so well known and loved was she. And although I didn’t realise it at the time, this held immense importance.

Our shop was more than a centre geographically.

I recall my father serving in the shop and he always had a word or a joke for the regulars. They would stay in the shop for ages, and conversations would go on with several people at once.
On Christmas Eve the whisky would come out, and the regulars would all have a drink with my father. I don’t recall seeing him later in the day. I think we can all guess why. You see, the shop was also the centre of a community.
My family did more than just sell things. It was almost a social event to come into the shop, and society seemed to revolve around it. When I look at the huge, impersonal shops around today, I can see how something important has died in our society.

© Anthony North, November 2008

MUMBAI ATROCITY

The reports from Mumbai over recent days are shocking, with terrorist gunmen killing well over a hundred people and injuring many hundreds more. Attacking ten targets around the city, it is a repulsive terrorist outrage.
We will never be free of terrorism, but the nature of the problem has changed. They used to deal in the ‘oxygen of publicity’ to further their cause. Now I think they deal in the ‘oxygen of stupidity’. What do I mean by this?
Such terrorists want to bring down the west and its democracies. And I can think of no better way of achieving this than government over reaction, placing anti-democratic security measures on the people. Could this politics of fear be helping the terrorists in their aim, and thus feeding their desire to continue?

RISE OF THE POLICE STATE?

There’s a long established tradition in UK government of civil servants leaking documents to opposition MPs if they think the governing party is trying to conceal information of public interest – such as 5,000 illegal immigrants being employed by security organizations.
One opposition MP, the Tory front bencher Damian Green, has been arrested by the police, apparently for leaking such documents to the media. This is the most worrying thing yet to come out of the rise of totalitarianism.
It is the right of the opposition to disclose the failings of government, and this arrest is a political arrest. Police have no business dabbling in politics. If this is correct, then this is a disgraceful act of a Police State!!!
Next post, Tuesday. Hope to see you then.

© Anthony North, November 2008

WELCOME

Welcome to your deepest thoughts,
it’s strange in here, you can’t abort,
you can only go round and round,
from neuron to neuron, forever abound;
Some thoughts are of tranquility,
the closest to Heaven you’ll ever be,
whilst others are of macabre stuff,
get stuck in there, it gets quite tough;
Memories exist all over the place,
all past experience interlaced,
with fantasy built upon mere fact,
amazing things that you thought you lacked;
But beware of that surreal rabbit hole,
go down there, you won’t be whole,
voices will constantly invite you to tea,
and welcome you to insanity

(c) Anthony North, November 2008

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WHEN WINTER COMES – Fiction

Everything changes when Winter comes. I’d said it every time – every damned time. I looked out at the last days of a late Summer, knowing it wouldn’t be long now.
Why did it have to change? Didn’t I deserve a break?
I looked into Julia’s eyes and I could see that she sensed it, too. These late Summer days had become so important to us. She was a sun worshipper and I’d spend hours watching her soaking it up in her swim suit. It was a tranquil time, alone, joyous during the day and passionate at night, with nothing to disturb us in these brief respites.
But soon Winter would be here and it would all change. Both of us wished it could be different, but knew it never could . There was too much to lose. So it would continue like this, year in, year out, the late Summer dashed when Winter comes.
And eventually came the day. I packed. Departed. Returned to my other life – as John Winter, her husband, arrived home.

© Anthony North, November 2008

A WINTER’S TAIL

Brrr! It’s cold,
my bones are getting very old,
the frost, it bites,
never, ever, any respite,
snow falling, at first a hoot,
then like frozen parachutes,
storm troopers of winter’s siege,
a massive, mighty blizzard krieg;
Shelter comes so easily,
blazing fire so good to see,
warming my body through and through,
flames protecting from winter flu;
Although it looks so beautiful,
so good, the occasional winter’s lull,
but not so good as the winter’s tail,
until it comes, I will prevail,
and when it’s here I will sing,
hurry soon, dear Spring

(c) Anthony North, November 2008

My friend Jamie at Duward Discussion has passed
on this Sexy Reader Award, which I accept and pass on with grateful thanks – although
my attire is much more traditionally male 🙂

Rules: Pass it on to five other bloggers, and tell them to open the nearest book to page 46. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The closest book, not the coolest, or the one you think will sound the best. THE CLOSEST.
The closest books to my desk are quick reference. So … Conspiracy Theories by David Southwell & Sean Twist:

Among those 50,000 photographs taken by the Viking probe, Frame 35A72 carried the biggest surprise; a picture of a giant face in the Martian soil …. While the world sat stunned by the image, NASA quickly downplayed any possibility that this face was anything more than just a natural rock formation, the accidental creation of wind and erosion, and most defintely not a deliberate work of art by long-dead Martian hands. As independent researchers continued their investigations …

Please don’t feel pressured to take part, but this time, I pass this along to my friends at:

Comedy Plus
Writing In Faith
Sweet Talking Guy
Tumblewords
Rooted

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