Thursday, 8 January 2015

In a Fankle

I was lucky enough in 2014 to contribute twice to a very small but worthy community writers outlet: The Fankle.

For my English followers, a fankle is a wonderful Scottish word describing a bit of a muddle really. Not as serious as an accident but quite a bit more icky than a knotted ball of string.

You are in a fankle if you fall over putting your own trousers on. Or getting your hairbrish stuck in your hair. Definitely in a fankle when more than three things conspire to go wrong at once. And absolutely in a fankle with anything tied around your ankle.

I love the word Fankle. Always have. Anyway I digress...

The following appeared first in March / April edition under the Fankles theme of:

I Remember, I Remember.

I remember, I remember  how much I love you every day and the pain of when you went away.
I wish I could remember more that you would say. Why must those memories fade away?
I remember much fun we had. How much you looked after me.
How much we spoke on the phone and how long we could talk about nothing.
I remember how much you loved my hair.  You called it my crowning glory.
I can cut it now you are not here. But I wish I hadn’t.

I remember how much of a big deal you made of birthdays. The gifts you saved all year.
I remember the size of the parcel stack that made you smile so wide to give. How special you made it.
I remember how much you added to my funny stories, and I realise how much I forget now you are not here, not near.
I remember how much funnier you made those stories, even when you embarrassed me, you always told the truthful bits that I chose to forget.
I remember when you turned 50 and made me take you on a geriatric drive to nowhere. We got lost, going nowhere. You made me do an emergency stop because you suddenly pointed and said “that road goes somewhere.” We laughed, because all roads go somewhere. I remember that drive like it was just last week.

I remember my 30th Masquerade Ball. You twirled around in a beautiful big red dress and thanked me. Because you had never had the chance to wear a ball gown before.

I remember your smell and your face, your love and your hugs.
I remember your voice, your crazy hand knitted jumpers, your short blue, pink or purple hair, your piercing blue eyes.
I remember how safe I felt in your arms, even over 30 years old, nothing could make me forget the comfort of you.

I remember how much we screamed at each other, how much you forgave me.
I remember the laughter we shared and your beautiful smiling face.

I remember you every day, in every way, in the words I say, and my determination each day, to remember you.

I remember, I remember. I remember you. I do.

Lou Hyland
23/02/14


And then this one was published in the Nov / Dec edition under the Fankles theme of:

Just a Minute

Waiting in line.
I can handle just a minute, or even I won’t be long,
But when you say just a sec...I think really? That’s so wrong.
When you say just a second I count slowly in my head,
And after one, I ask ‘ready now?’ and see your face turn red.
I see frustration slanted at my literal taking on your words,
But all I want is to be clear on how long I will wait to be served.
I know I’m being impatient and perhaps a little unkind,
But when I know the reality, I really do not mind
But really just a sec? It’s not that long at all,
So why not say just a minute and save yourself the fall?

Lou Hyland
14/10/14

One makes me cry, the other makes me giggle.

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