[NetBehaviour] Whereupon B asks Leo about this and that...

Simon Mclennan mclennanfilm at gmail.com
Sat Dec 26 07:40:02 CET 2020

Accompanying photo from yesterday https://www.instagram.com/p/CJQEL1yHHc2/?igshid=6w38p96efiui

‘... and then there were those school yard times. All those school playgrounds. Some were grey, chalk marked stone or delicate pink igneous rocks, granites of pale green or blue. Slate played an impressive role, in the earlier yards at that time.. those oft drizzle days. The overcast days with the playing fields up the back, past the houses with the tiny pink pebble dash and the flying clotheslines behind. Those wooden gipsy pegs bobbing on square lattices of clotheslines beside fields of rippling young wheat and barley their hairy ears undulating like a shiny blue/green sea. From that upstairs landing window could be seen the far bus stop by the wall heading into the town and the sandstone gate posts where the plastic soldiers would be placed at the play times.’

‘Was that the 20th Century?’

‘Yea verily and simply so. I had a black woollen blazer jacket upon which top I carried about me a dark blue quilted anorak with good hood, or cowl. This a decent and comfortable protection from Yorkshire winds, rain and quite often sleet which seemed to travel at a bitingly sharp angle oft counter to the flat angle of the face.’

‘Stoic times for those children then?’

‘Yes, the stoic and implacable red wind burned faces of us children. The noble children. And the mothers in their pinafore and sometimes fancy light coloured camel coats, the short variety of an Italian cut. I think it was the sixties decade of the 1900s. Coats were cut short. Men’s coats were cut short, were often brown with a large wooly collar and kept short and referred to as car-coats - Fetch my car-coat - or - I’ll be wearing the car-coat - were typical phrases I remember. To keep warm in the car of course. Heating the chariot was not very efficient at that time. Interiors of cars were draughty and at night extremely dim if not actually pitch dark. You certainly appreciated the car coat idea. And it was so dark you just watched out of the windows. Either peering from the back past the parents’ dim heads and through the front wind screen or sideways through those door windows. You generally kept quiet, and ran a film through your head to pass the time - a long and rambling inner monologue that came spontaneously. Fresh and rambling with many twists and turns comprised of things that had happened that day or week and then thoughts about the next day and probably many other things mixed in. The interests for instance. Any ideas that might occur. Fears, hopes, fantasy and adventure ideas from story and picture books. Like that one about the elf. The green elf with the inquisitive nature.’

‘And did music often play out of the air in that time?’

‘Yes it surely did. It came from either the inside of the front part of the car, or directly from the small box to be carried around either in the hand or placed carefully in a side or top pocket. That small box sound was more treble, with less bass parts. But the songs were lilting lullabies that fell to the ears like magic stories of a beauty beyond understanding. We cried out loud and tears fell and we felt deep feelings of pain, anguish and pure love and all types of love as an inner glow or warmth or then again the pain of it at times really strong and reflecting our fears, desires and hopeful musings.’

‘Did you sing along?’

‘We sang along sometimes, or listened or moved our hands and feet in dance. The words stuck in our heads with the melody being the most prominent part. It sang itself in your head for ever after or could be recalled at will at any time.’

‘What else did you love about those days?’

‘I loved that running across the fields. We ran often. And sang a lot. Chattered. Picked the yellow flowers. Climbed by the wall. Under the ash tree. The mossy walls. Stony trout shiny black backed on the river bed. Caddisfly larvae. The buckets. Stones. Sticks for walking and playing etc. All the dogs. Cats and their kittens. The tiny yellow birds with the blue caps. The classroom clock showing often a few minutes to midday. And that story we listened to read by the headmaster. That wood by the school. That sloping playground. That cold water from the tap in summer. That field with the red sun and the many wild meadow flowers mainly clover, buttercup and daisy. The several bridges over the rivers. The river bank. The fireplace.’

‘Would you go back?’

‘Yes, but then it happened itself without foresight or much or even any volition. It fell like the rain or passed as the river passed. You were in that time stream of then - that particular then. Like this time stream of our now. And although we jump about we always go to a new part, Never the same part twice. Just a sort of generic bit. So there’s never foresight. But there is repetition of actions, deeds or thoughts.’

‘Is the thought always different though, because of time or place or order?’


The powerful wind blew their coats close against their bodies outlining their silhouettes and their cheeks glowed  ruddy and hot. Tears whipped from their eyes as they gazed down at the fields, woods, distant hills and big fluffy clouds. 

They descended the path and walked across several fields and along a short muddy track, through hedges and past old stone barns, eventually arriving at the large house with the surrounding buildings and out houses where they removed their boots before disappearing inside the main house slamming the black door shut behind them.



Sent from my spyphone 
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