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StringOurs was passed round the family on parcels
and never cut, only teased
of its obstinate knots - one good reason
to stop biting your nails.
It kept well in a dresser jug - door end
by the garage key with its bent metal tag;
coiled, the end rolled, tucked in, made fast
in ways you picked up without thinking.
Like so much:
brown paper (flattened under a cushion);
stamp edging (hoarded in a purse);
paperclips (shining in a toffee tin).
All the things you couldn't buy,
even if you'd thought of it.
I never knew you could buy string.
D A Prince. From Nearly the Happy Hour, 2008. Happenstance Publishing.
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* OK so listen up. Just as I've introduced you to the wonders of Poems in the Waiting Room, they've announced that they can't afford to keep doing it. Nobody has agreed to fund it. If you want your local surgery to receive the leaflets you need to support them. As far as I can tell they can do it for £25 a year. I plan to send them a cheque - because these little cards give me so much pleasure during my regular doctor trips. Contact Michael Lee at PO Box 488 Richmond TW9 4SW or email
pitwr(at )blueyonder(dot)co(dot)uk
4 comments:
Make do and mend was a lifestyle of the first half of the 20th century, we seem to have lost that kind of frugality when we exchanged our string for sellotape and our dishcloths for kitchen rolls. No way to reuse stuff like that. Now people have re-invented it, called it re-cycling and believe it to be a trendy new idea.
For years I ironed christmas wrapping paper, thinking it the only way to do it, and I never ever throw away a paper clip ... is that a sign of my age? Probably.
Hi Morning AJ .. good idea .. I'll try and send him a cheque in a few days .. cheers Hilary
PS - might need a reminder in a month or so ..
Thanks Hilary. That's kind of you.
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