as if in a dream - a landscape

windrush

Dear Sheddists,

earlier this week we pay a visit to to the 'Windrush Garden'.  Originally planted for Chelsea Flower Show it's now been relocated, lock stock and barrel, to a new home outside Birmingham Town Hall.

The display is a poignant reminder of the hopes, aspirations, disappointments and joy of a generation that came to serve. A generation from whom we could learn so much.

We read the stories on the back of giant dominoes that lie in the wake of the 'Empress Windrush' and meet a very dignified lady who traveled from Jamaica with her family all those years ago.  She tells us of landing in London, aged nine in thin, tropical clothing and being taken by her father to buy a coat to protect her from the cold.  She's with her lovely daughter who spotted her mother's photograph in a display in Central Library and is clearly, and rightly, proud of her family history.

These are troubling times in the world right now and it's so good to be reminded of the spirit of hope and optimism brought to us all those years ago by the Windrush generation.

Yours as ever,

electrofried(mr)

Polaroid dream

Their feckless razors cut mean red slits through the night. We sleep so restlessly, tossing and turning as the door knocks time and time again.  Somewhere a disconnected telephone rings and we pick up the receiver to hear the voice of the late General George Armstrong call.  He chants the number 6 …

… and the nightmare 

pads

into

the

room

dressed

in

the

thin-veined

moebius loop

of

mr

wolf

Lycanthrope scratchings, rabid at the door with the voice of General George repeating his chant in time to the background.  Some sweet smelling flowers of romance to lay his grave by ...

number 6

number 6

...