its a bailey .. . sandals


its a bailey.. . its a bailey .. . using no traditional punctuation sandals

.. . and while we are on the subject of mothers  did i mention that my mum  mammy  mater  mother  mummy  was the best ever    for children growing up in the fifties  the mother father parental pairing was  still the accepted norm within pretty much the whole of western culture    in british society the mothers matriarchal position was still paramount    as a child i was never aware of any overt sexism    we just accepted the roles our parents played as distinct  not necessarily superior or inferior    in these  stripped down  personal memoirs  it is not my purpose to comment on modern gender politics but simply to tell things as i found them    i have some early memories  as an under 5  that some find surprising    for instance i can clearly remember our next door neighbour  mrs iffel   talking baby mumbo jumbo to me while i lay in my pram and also the softness of my blankets    i can also remember queuing with my mother outside a hall behind our local swimming baths one cold day in sunshine    once inside  my mother collected two flat medicine style bottles with corks  containing natural squeezed orange juice and a jar of virol  malt extract that were  supplied free of charge using  ration books  until they were terminated in July 1954    that fact alone places my recollection and my age at under 3 years    one memory i do not recall however  that concerned my mother  she would often retell  as it had made her feel guilty    one day she had left me in my pram outside the local greengrocers and  walked nearly 2 miles home before realising she had left me behind    unsurprisingly she had panicked and hastily returned to find me sleeping soundly in my pram on a lazy summers day in the surrey village where we lived    i never blamed my mother and grew kind of proud of her confession    ironically life gave her the opportunity to balance up that spot of negligence  a few years later at almost the very same spot where she had left me sleeping in my pram     she had been shopping in boots the chemists  the shop adjacent to the greengrocers where my mother had left me 7 years previously    i was returning from primary school early one evening at age 8 years  as children did in 1959    on the day in question i had chosen to walk with 2 friends through the woods    i would leave them at the corner of the village and journey on alone through the park to our home    as we reached the place where we normally parted we found a large number of trees had been felled quite recently  chopped up and burnt in a large fire that measured around 30 feet in circumference    the bonfire seemed burnt out and dormant  although it had left a huge circle of white ash    there were no barriers or warning signs    i suppose i was showing off as i rushed into the  circle of dusty cinders sending a shower of silver flakes up into the hot  sunny  afternoon haze    my friends laughed at my bravado    i rushed past the cold extremities of the fire toward the neucleus suddenly aware that my feet were strangely warming    i arrested my crazy dash on reaching the centre of the bonfires residue   anguished   as i was aware of intense sparks of heat penetrating the cut holes in my children’s buckled sandals    i glanced down in horror at my sandalled feet now nestling deep inside the silver piecrust exterior and encased by angry red and orange coals of fire    small blue and silver flames licked at my white ankle socks    inevitably i screamed and ran for the safety of the woodland floor    i was sobbing with the shock of my personal misfortune and painful burns while my friends offered  kids kind of palliative advice  stressing I should get home fast while also berating me for my foolish antics    easy to be wise after the event guys    my sobbing continued as i limped painfully in the general direction of our home deciding to take an impromptu route through the village    i was scared and had no wish to be alone so i limped painfully up the road toward where the road met the high street   the junction corner was where boots the chemist was situated    at this moment my mother exited boots the chemist as if on cue    with her purchases completed she planned to walk home    she stated later that she had been suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to turn left out the store and proceed down the adjacent road towards the park    she could not explain her actions  as she never used that road and it took the opposite direction to home    yet she proceeded down the road and recognising the sound of a child crying  she hurried to help    miraculously she was confronted by her own  distressed son    it was a remarkable and unforgettable mother son moment we often spoke of   

                                                              its a bailey .. .   4 december 2020 .. .   edenbraytoday

This picture shows me a few weeks after the bonfire incident with my older brother Martin on holiday in Littlehampton still nursing bandaged feet due to the burns I suffered

About edenbray

I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
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