following on from the lovely miss*r i give you my life and my roots and memories...
I am from an ancient forest and rolling seas, from marmite and fish and chips.
I am from the house with open fires, a big green garden with a hide out in a plum tree, duffel coats and mittens, smell of burning leaves and a real tree at Christmas, from Enid Blyton and Arthur Ransom. John Denver playing from the ‘record player’ and Thursday ‘sweet night’ me and Sam eating sweets to Top of the Pops. Journeys to Cornwall in autumn, squashed in the back of a bright red MGB GT
I am from sea salt spray, oak, heather and gorse, where ponies and donkeys roam at will
I am from the sea and land, working class, red haired, grey eyed and pale~navy men, miners and farmers; from the Gauls and Flavins in Southern Ireland, from the Williams from the far north, the Hawkins, Dockers from Portsmouth.
I am from the people who never stray far from their roots and class and love to talk of the old days and war over cups of tea and laugh.
From people who all live in one street, who refuse to be evacuated, who were never bombed ‘the devil looks after his own…’ hop pickers, fishermen, rag and bone.
I am from a place of no religion. My place is of the moon, the streams, and the woods, the trees, of the sidhe, the standing stones and ancient land and peoples.
I'm from the naval port of Portsmouth, mariners and navy men, miners from the north and Hibernia. I am from Irish and Welsh Celtic ancestors, ancient tribe’s people whose blood still runs in my veins. Mugs of tea and sea food
From Johney Gaul who in 1916 sat on a railway station singing ‘When I leave this World Behind’ who never came back from France, from George Williams who joined the navy as a teenager to escape the mines of his ancestors, a man of the North Atlantic convoys, from the man who gave up the police force for his art... my dad Tony.
I am from the people of the land, those who worked with their hands, lived hard but happy lives, who never pretended to be anything else.
I am from the house with open fires, a big green garden with a hide out in a plum tree, duffel coats and mittens, smell of burning leaves and a real tree at Christmas, from Enid Blyton and Arthur Ransom. John Denver playing from the ‘record player’ and Thursday ‘sweet night’ me and Sam eating sweets to Top of the Pops. Journeys to Cornwall in autumn, squashed in the back of a bright red MGB GT
I am from sea salt spray, oak, heather and gorse, where ponies and donkeys roam at will
I am from the sea and land, working class, red haired, grey eyed and pale~navy men, miners and farmers; from the Gauls and Flavins in Southern Ireland, from the Williams from the far north, the Hawkins, Dockers from Portsmouth.
I am from the people who never stray far from their roots and class and love to talk of the old days and war over cups of tea and laugh.
From people who all live in one street, who refuse to be evacuated, who were never bombed ‘the devil looks after his own…’ hop pickers, fishermen, rag and bone.
I am from a place of no religion. My place is of the moon, the streams, and the woods, the trees, of the sidhe, the standing stones and ancient land and peoples.
I'm from the naval port of Portsmouth, mariners and navy men, miners from the north and Hibernia. I am from Irish and Welsh Celtic ancestors, ancient tribe’s people whose blood still runs in my veins. Mugs of tea and sea food
From Johney Gaul who in 1916 sat on a railway station singing ‘When I leave this World Behind’ who never came back from France, from George Williams who joined the navy as a teenager to escape the mines of his ancestors, a man of the North Atlantic convoys, from the man who gave up the police force for his art... my dad Tony.
I am from the people of the land, those who worked with their hands, lived hard but happy lives, who never pretended to be anything else.
4 comments:
lovely, lovely, lovely! And I think we must be related! xox
thank you robyn~i have discovered my great,great, great gran mary janes was from Plymouth!
oh my! I must look it up.. many of my relatives come from there.. i wonder........
you know, I have this deep feeling inside that I am related to someone on blogging... is that insane? or wishful thinking? or real?
robyn, i have only just started to look into this part of the family...but how funny!
i have not been able to find her maiden name, but she was born in Devonport, Plymouth around 1833 and married thomas miller janes who was born in rudmore, portsea (the old name for portsmouth) i dont know where they were married but he was in the navy so obviously met her in Plymouth.
how exciting!
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