ON MAKING LISTS
‘The list could surely go on, and there is nothing more wonderful than a list … we make lists because we don’t want to die’
Umberto Eco
ONE:
Things I have lost
My Tonsils. Removed by surgery.
My Adenoids. Removed by surgery.
A piece of one lip. Torn off on the steps of Liverpool Cathedral.
My Coronation mug. To my Auntie Kathleen’s china cabinet
My Dad. Too young.
My virginity. Too young?
A mole. Carcinogenic. Removed by surgery.
My Mum. When her body finally decided to follow her mind.
One breast. Carcinogenic. Removed by surgery.
My sense of symmetry. That just followed.
My black hair.
My ability to run.
My younger son.
Forever here in my heart.
The person my husband was.
Damn, damn, damn
To that dratted brain disease.
Things I have found
A half-crown I lost in the snow.
Two sheep bones on a moor.
A gold ring in the garden.
My wet swimsuit in the locker room.
One leather glove.
One of my favourite earrings.
One purple sock. (Why always one?)
A photograph of my Dad.
Someone guilty of a crime.
My own way home.
TWO:
Things I have learned
My catechism.
How to ride a bike.
Two live languages.
One dead one.
My 12 times table.
How to conjugate French verbs.
Not to believe
Everything they tell you.
The grass isn’t always greener
On the other side.
To eat oysters
And love them.
To live in close proximity
With somebody else.
Thigh gap is what
We should all be aiming for.
Joy is transient.
But so, I dare to hope, is pain.
Things I have never learned
To drive a car.
To play a musical instrument.
To skate on thin ice.
To keep my opinions to myself.
THREE:
Things I have worn
A brace on my teeth.
My school uniform.
An Easter bonnet.
New clothes for Whitsun.
Hot pants.
Maxi-skirts.
White stilettos.
Wedge heels.
A surgical gown (more than one)
A wedding dress. (only one)
A fascinator – there was a time.
Two maternity smocks.
Seamed stockings.
Anti-embolism stockings.
Flesh coloured tights.
Reading glasses.
Varifocals when the latter gave up on me.
An anti-Vietnam War pin.
A Women’s Lib pin.
A Coal not Dole pin.
A Healthcare not Warfare pin.
A Free Palestinian pin.
Rings on my fingers …
A Lourdes medal.
A St Christopher medal.
A watch my Mum once bought me.
My heart on my sleeve.
Things I wish I had never worn
Flesh-coloured tights.
My hair in spiky rollers.
Purple lipstick.
Hot Pants
White stilettos
Smock tops.
My heart on my sleeve.
FOUR:
Things I have seen.
A shooting star.
A kingfisher on a river.
Mount Fuji.
A sunrise over the Alps.
Sunsets over Hackney high rises.
A Blood Moon.
A ‘little silver slipper of a moon’.
Norwegian fjords from the air.
(It finally made sense of all those geography lessons)
The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.
The Wall of Separation in Jerusalem.
The Berlin Wall – before and after it fell.
Hadrian’s Wall.
London Wall.
Wall Street.
York City Walls.
Derry City Walls.
A dry stone wall.
The fourth wall.
(Broken down on occasion).
Wall to wall carpeting.
A party wall.
Millwall. Though only from the train.
Wallsend.
(I don’t quite know why the walls took over at one point
Probably best to stop there).
Things I have never seen.
The Great Wall of China
The Lighthouse at Alexandria
The Temple of Artemis.
The Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
The Pyramids.
The Aurora Borealis.
The Barrier Reef.
A chrysalis become a butterfly.
Down the barrel of a gun.
Peace in Palestine.
The light at the end of the tunnel.
And, although I have
Claimed to have done so,
I’ve not yet “Seen it all’.
FIVE
Things I like about myself.
A determination to be positive
And find joy wherever it’s to be found.
(Hence list five)
The colour of my eyes.
The shape of my mouth (see earlier)
My white hair (see earlier)
My passion for justice.
My ability to find synergy.
My sense of humour.
(Some of) my writing.
My home cooking.
Especially when I use up
Everything that’s left in the fridge
Things I like in others.
A propensity to laugh/even smile
At my wordplay or jokes.
It’s more than enough …
SIX:
Things I’m afraid of
Insanity.
Mortality.
Eternity.
Even that word
Sends shivers
Down my spine.
Paranoia.
Heights.
Depths.
Wasps.
Rats.
Anything that flies
Near my face.
Turbulence in planes.
Lightning in storms.
Letting go.
Not being liked.
Needing to be liked.
Being old.
(OK. I’m already there).
No one remembering me.
Once I’ve gone.
At this point it’s probably better to confess – that is the big one.
No one remembering me once I’m gone
Things I’m (trying to be) brave about
All of the above.
And more.
‘
