Owld Fossils

I was looking for a wooden tea trolley, to put my sewing machine on, so that I could bool it in and out of the cupboard, sit on the chair in front of the computer and swivel between the two, brilliant. For the past couple of weeks I`ve hit the charity shops with no luck. Called in to a junk shop, he didn`t have one, but his brother, who lives and works in an old church, Whitfield Antiques, would have one. We were amazed, the building still sported the high beamed ceilings and was packed to the rafters with fabulous things. Got a lovely 60`s style solid wood trolley with ball wheels, a couple of books and a marvelous puppet from Rajasthan, it has wooden heads and hands. It switches into two characters, (can`t wait to take it to nursery.) There were oil paintings, grandfather clocks, fur coats, china, photos and strapped up by chains above the gallery, a tandem for £80. He showed us around, we were invited into his living quarters, he`s got 4 poodles and an English Bull terrier. His dining table is aloft on what must have been the pulpit area when it had been a church and his furniture is the biggest, most ornate and most fabulous. The gardens are well kept with lots of interesting corners, carved faces, mirrors etc. Then we were left to spend as much time as we liked roaming around.

Another great council idea!!!!! Let`s put pink street lighting everywhere to stop the kids hanging around in gangs, the reason being that it will show up their spots and encourage them to move on. How much did this cost please? Wouldn`t it be better to put the money towards entertaining the kids, a centre, more youth workers etc?

Things that shock this week...watched a documentary on Japan, a couple who had lost their jobs were forced to put their baby into the care of a foster family.

Del Boy making a racist joke.

And the artist who was responsible for dreamspace being charged 10,000 and a charge of manslaughter dropped, could the council be to blame for the deaths, health and safety standards slipping. The familes of the victims must be distraught.

Madonna at it again, no not that...adopting. It certainly is one rule for the rich and another for the rest of us.

Watched a fantastic show Charlie Brooker, Newswipe, a sarky view of current affairs, on Thursdays at 11.00. Spoke about the favourite word of the moment QUANTATIVEASING....he likened it to

"Filling up a petrol tank with imaginary petrol."

The idea to pump more money into the economy to encourage the banks to start lending again. Dreamed up money. Mervyn King said that nothing was certain and he didn`t know how long it would take. Then Booker quipped

"Another way to say I don`t know."

He discussed the massacre in Germany at a school, there was so much press coverage that it had "Turned the twat into a legend." The muderer`s face was disguised by using those colourful boxy marks. "So pixelated so that it looked like a photo from the Lego dimension." Must watch the next 5 programmes.

While I`m on a rant, It is not appropriate to show a Co-op advert for their funeral services on a Saturday night, while I`m watching TV, after eating Pizza, Chicken in crusty buns, chocolate merengue, Cadbury`s creme egg quaffed down with a glass of wine. They advertise easy terms. Can`t help but feel guilty for stuffing my face to the degree that I may just need them. Yeah, yeah, I know, but I`ll make a start on Monday.

The next advert shows Bobby Charlton raising a bottle to his lips.

B "I drink Actimel every day."
D "Do you bollocks, you`re only saying that because they pay you!"

Had a good morning at the Quayside market, we bought a couple of CD`s. Love the cheeses on the fresh farm products, love the assistant`s apron even more

Age is not important unless you`re a cheese.

The tourists were out in force with their camera`s standing in line with the bridges and the Sage, groups of lads were waiting for taxis no doubt after their stag weekends, which Newcastle is famous for. We drove on along our way and passed two funeral parlours, one was called The Coffin Shop and the other advertised Go as You Please. D commented that he should have bought the tandem.

Y "People would laugh at us, we`d look daft."
D " I couldn`t give a fuck."
Y "Well I could, besides I`m 57 I`d get a bad back."
D "We could just have ourselves put doon?"

We could donate ourselves to the old church, the fella could have us stuffed and put into glass boxes, we wouldn`t look out of place at his gaff, two owld fossils.

Richard Walker-Hardwick (Kicked Out)

Check out this author, a social worker who felt that

"Too much of the interaction with young people was directed downwards." and

"The staff at hostels and youth offending services do a very good job, but every interaction is so formal."

Richard explores in his novel Kicked out, youth homelessness, drug and alcohol use, anti-social and violent behaviour, mental health, self harm and rejection and bereavement. He also states that the story is about loyalty, survival, excitement and a shocking discovery.

The book launch is at Waterstones in Newcastle on April 9th from 6.30-8.00 and also appearing with Richard will be a performance by Rik Fury, lead singer in South Shields band Dialect.

Richard also teaches creative writing in Frankland Prison near Durham.

More from Vannesa Zandani

Wedding Vows

My mother told me to divorce him while I had the chance
To escape the torment of his hands
As the savage brute served his time in jail
Eighteen months for GBH
Injuring a barman in a local pub.
Maybe I thought for a moment, I should
Remembering the night when the police came
To take him away; the feelings of shame.
I looked at the photograph of our wedding day
Sacred vows, a solemn pledge
I thought it my duty to stay,
In the remand centre, sat at a cheap plastic table
He promised never to use violence again
Teenaged and innocent, I took it all in.

Fear

In the pitch black of night
I hear the yale lock turn,
Keep very still, be a statue,
Pretend you’re asleep, don’t even breathe
For the bogey man cometh.

My hearts pounding, I’m terrified
Sense his alcoholic breath as it thuds on each stair,
Keep very still, be a statue,
He’ll see the movement in my beating chest
For the bogey man cometh.

Bedroom door kicked open wide
Dazzling light bulb ignites,
Keep very, very still, be a statue
Pretend you’re asleep; don’t even let your eyelids flicker
Don’t taunt him, don’t even dare to breathe,
For the bogey man is here again!



Marriage

A broken nose that will never mend
A blood stained tooth lying on the floor,
Long black hair yanked out from the roots
I knew I could no take much more.

His bare fists punching holes into walls
Furiously hammering down the bedroom door,
Eyes wide, thumping heart, trapped in a snare
I knew I could not take much more.

Manly boots kicking into my abdomen
Organs ruptured, wounded and raw,
Whimpering in the corner like a terrified child
I cannot take anymore


Dolls

Docile bitch with synthetic hair.
To be played with by spoilt children
And cruel wicked men.
Pull my arms so the shoulders are disjointed
Spread my legs so the torso is twisted
Spin my head three hundred and sixty degrees,
Then draw on my body with bright blue felt tip pen
Erase it, scrawl again
Batter me upon the bed
Crack open my coconut head
I’m shrinking, I’m so small
Crush me, leave me for dead.

Signs of the times

I love to read the little signs that shop keepers put up.

"Please don`t drop fag ends on the floor, the cockroaches are dying from cancer."

"God helps those who help themselves, but god help those who I catch helping themselves."

Also the fruit sellers on the barrows, Carrits and potatis.

Leafing through a selection of greetings cards, couldn`t help but notice signs dividing them...the Loss of your Dog next to Loss of your Wife, flanked by Rat poison and wood glue. Ah, just what I`m looking for, not the poison!! although I could think of many uses for it. I was sitting at the computer, heard a cracking noise, the front of my files cupboard burst off, note pads, files,paper etc tsunami`d onto the floor. D walks in

D " You must be putting too much in that drawer!"
Y " Nooooooo, you don`t say."
D " Well are you going to pick it all up then?"
Y " Yeeees, when I`ve finished this, have you got any wood glue?"
D " No. You`ll have to get some tomorrow, but you`ll have to leave everything out of the drawer."
Didn`t say anything, why bother when I have a master near me who is brilliant at stating the obvious.


Saw a leggy lass wearing the highest heels possible before her arches were in danger of snapping.Teetering along the path towards the bus stop. She had left the white price tags on the bottom, no idea if the shoes were nice or not as I was concentrating on the white squares.

Bus journeys are usually enjoyable, but not today. A grandma sat next to me on the flippy down seats, a youngster around 13 years was with her, but needed to stand holding on to the handle above me. I couldn`t help but notice that her nose was dripping. Every time the bus lurched from a stop, she swang in my direction. Oh no, please don`t stop driver. Then the grandma kept speaking to her, as she whipped her head around to hear, I was in constant danger of being pebble dashed.

Should be a sign "S...not nice to snivel, so use a sodding snot rag."

Vannesa Zandani

My sister in law met Vannesa Zandani at The Cumberland Arms a couple of months back. Vannesa had been in an abusive relationship and read her work on this subject. She spoke with such force, really hit home what she must have suffered. Three of her poems here.


Lipstick.

She’s wearing it again
That lipstick, enhancing her cupids bow
To entice other blokes
I’m going to smear it all over her face
Make her ugly so they won’t look
I don’t give a fuck when the rage comes
And jealousy gnaws at my brain
A few more Newcy browns and it will start again
Just saw some blokes giving her the eye
Pawing her long raven hair
Falling into her big brown Betty Boop eyes
She doesn’t notice too quiet and shy
But she will when I get her home
Punch out her lights
Force myself upon her have my way
She’s mine my slave, my dutiful wife.






Many years later

My body pains me
It burns relentlessly, yet I am cold
Stone heart
Deep welts criss cross my abdomen
Memories of him!

Internal scars never fade
They still feel the rage
Sickness eats me within
Always memories of him!







Left in tatters

I was in turmoil the day I left
Nothing but loneliness and emptiness
Broken hearted and bereft
I was in turmoil the day I left.

Nothing but dark nightmares and screams
It all fell apart at the seams
I was in turmoil the day I left
Nothing but moth-eaten dreams

Screaming Women

Husband D was watching a Bond movie today. I`ve always despised films which show the little woman screaming and the men rushing to sort the problem out while she evaporates in the corner. Until, one day D found an old lighter in the drawer, none of us smoke, but it`s one of those things that you buy from the Lookie Lookie men in Tenerife. It was a little dinosaur, when you pressed its paw, the eyes lit up, it gave a roar and the flames come out of its mouth, you know the kind of thing, total shite, but your on holiday and you need to buy gadgets. It`s the men I`m talking about here!!!! Anyway, D was forcing lighter fluid up its arse,faffing around using his sausage fingers on the canister. He pressed the paw and as he`d sprinkled some on his arm, when a huge bazooka style flame shot over the hairs on his arm like something from Terminator, yes, you guessed, I screamed... and hated my stupid self for doing so.

I also feel as if I`m quoting from an episode of Lead Balloon, but no, this conversation did take place in our house. We`re selling the boat, dinghy, trailer and 3 outboard motors, we`ve all lost interest and are doing other things, so it`s going the journey. As D was at work all day Saturday G offered to go to the lakes (Using D`s car)with the offer that we could use his little sporty job. No petrol in his, ours tank full. At first he said that he and girlfriend E would stay overnight on the boat to be there early in the morning to greet the customer.

G "Dad, you know when I said that me and E were going to stay on the boat..well, we thought it would be a good idea if we went into a hotel because the weather`s not all that good. But..we`d need you to pay for it because we are going up there to save you the job, and being as you`re at work?"

D "How much is this costing me?"
G "It`s only £65"

Took part in the first Pinklane Poetry event at the Jazz Club and it was fantastic, the atmosphere was electric, it felt like we were in a Vaudeville theatre. Margaret Frayne, a powerful jazz singer wowed everyone by belting out her songs without music or a mic. James Oates and Simma great as usual, P.A. Morbid,Martin Palmer, Dionne Broadbent, Simon Buglass, The fantastic sounds of Simon "Mucle Drummer" and the winner was Nikki Hawkins with her hilarious comedy routine. There is to be an event once a month, looking forward to it.

Also went to Star and Shadow Theatre for the first time, very sixties, sofa`s, lighting, old fashioned theatre a big rambling building. The performance was great, a film background with images across the screen while a band played and a three person play went on in the forground. Another brilliant new place to go now that we are members. Rik from Dialect was there, met Mark Read from the Tynedale Enterprise Project who has some good projects on the go.

We went into the Tanner`s Arms before the show and a little dog came booling in, a cross between a rottweiller and a staffordshire bull terrier, he was gorgeous, very smily and waggy. He got chucked out of there. He bustled his way into Stars and Shadows, got away with it for a while pouncing around while being patted. But then he was ushered out. I knew that had he been still hanging around when we left at the end of the night, that we`d probably take him home. Suckers. But alas, no little animal. Can`t say that Chico would have been happy at an interloper on his terrotory.
He`s a true Geordie parrot now, quoting Hawway thun, comeer and Ok then tarrah. I must teach him how to scream..then if I do need to utter that hated sound again..I can blame the bird.

Jazz Club, Pink Lane

Revenge is Sweet

Heard D pull a plate from under other crockery, plate hit the deck and smashed. Under much mutting and tutting, D took dustpan and brush from cupboard, again dragging it past our huge tub of parroty foods, sunflower seeds etc. The whole tub upended in the cupboard into shoes. I sat oblivious typing away on the computer

D "That`s right, you just sit there!!!"
Y "Yes, thanks I will."
He swept up some of it, then got the hoover out. Yes, I remember when you stood watching me scour up the soap suds.
D "That cupboard is a mess."
Y "Well, you can tidy it if you want to. So, it`s my fault that the cupboard is untidy, it made you drop the plate did it?"
D "Humpfff"

As I said, revenge is sweet.

At Lorna Windham`s book launch,Breaking Point, one of her short stories was featured in Tales from the Inner Cities, a Ragepacket volume produced by Byker Books. She is a writer to watch out for. Just when I think that I have sussed what is going to happen, I haven`t, love that, twists and turns. Sheila Quigley there with her new book Living on a Prayer and Andy Rivers with his punchy style.


Sunday at the meeting of acts in the pink lane poetry event on Thursday 12th. We met in the old post office building, what a fabulous old place, I`d love to live somewhere like that. Robbie Hurst, James Oates, Simma, Jazz singer Margaret Frayne, Bish (Photographer) and Jess, the producer there. We called in to the Jazz Club to view where we would be performing. Original carpets, old style till and radio, fabulous old sofa`s. Simma left earlier as he had a gig on the quayside to perform his music. His first book was a sell out at the launch Last Night I Married the Audience, he has done brilliantly for his first book with Zebra, will go into second edition already.

Handed over 42,700 words, the captions and 250 photos to the publisher today, what a relief,only the acknowledgements page to complete. Now I can concentrate on writing again. But, I have become really interested in collecting the memories of our Benwell senior citizens and will continue to do this out of interest. Everyone has photos in their homes, waiting to be scanned and put into the West Newcastle Picture History Collection. We were there as usual in the new library from 9.30-12 and a few more residents who I spoke to last week in shops in the area called in. They thoroughly enjoyed talking about old times and looking through the collection. J H joked

"I was part of a big family, we all used the same bath water and I was last in. I was dirtier when I came out of the bath than I was when I went in." Magic.

How`s that Fat Frumpy and Fifty

I`m Forever Blowing Bubbles

Never be tempted, even when you have run out of washing machine tablets, to use Fairy Liquid instead. Stupidly, I tried this today.

D "You must have put half the bottle in."
Y "Fuck right off."
G "What a mess."
Y "And you can piss off."
D " Why did you open the door?"
G "Quick, get that bit before it goes under the washer."

Neither of them bothered to lend a hand as they stood watching me trawl up a three inch thick cloud of soap suds. I was using a dish and a swiffer. I threw the first dish full into the sink and I couldn`t even force it down the plug hole.

Then after being suitably satisfied with their pontifications for the day, their thoughts swiftly turned to G`s car which has a radiator leak, both sods moseyed on down to the garage leaving me with mops, kitchen roll and old towels. It has been logged, their cards are marked. One thing, the kitchen floor has never been so clean!!

Went to the club to finish off partying for Nancy`s 60th with pal I, there were around 40 of us. As soon as I walked through the door they began to sing I`m forever blowing bubbles. I was hoping that I would win the Bingo so that I could flash the cash past D & G, then put it into my purse, but no luck. We were also out on Saturday for a meal with the same crowd.

I and me left our pens on the table with a note pad as we talked to N, pal I noticed a man go over to our table, used the pens to test them on the pad, then buggered off with them, she told me of her observation,so I went over to him and heard him saying to his women folk "I`ve got a couple of pens." to which I burst his bubble by saying
"No you haven`t they`re mine from that table." he apologised and gave them back. I`m really off males at the moment, well some of them. Went to record some of my stuff with the band Dialect, I`ve met Rik before at the Cumberland when he was rapping the dialogue of a new author`s book. Amazing delivery. I met his pals, great bunch of young uns with heaps of talent and get up and go. Their CD should be out soon.

Also read at a 70th birthday party at a hotel which was very scary as there were around 100 people there, met K B at the Cumberland and she invited me to speak. It`s all good experience, but it`s quite different in broad daylight, much easier on a stage when it`s in semi darkness like at the Cumberland, and that` bad enough on the old nerves.

Looking forward to poet Andrew Motion`s event on Tuesday, he was on the Book Show today along with Michael Rosen who is also brilliant.

I think there is a poem in there somewhere regarding the washing machine, maybe something like,

There was an old granny called Soap
Who`s husband thought he was the pope
Her son was no better
He couldn`t be wetter
Than if he was spliffed up with dope.

Yes, it`s crap, I know, but it is 11.30 on a Sunday night after a night on the lash.

More brilliance from Dialect