Writings

Back Streets, Manchester

Many of Manchester's old mills have already found another use, high end apartment living rescuing their dereliction in those around the City Centre, but very nearby to it, only just on the margins, some of its oldest and first factory areas, Ancoats and Bradford, still hold the ghost buildings of the industrial past.  Within them, the first ever Victorian Council house street is still a pristine tribute to efforts to rescue people from the accompanying poverty and filth.  Originally, Anita Street was called Sanitary Street because it had a toilet in every home but early thoughts of gentrification meant it was renamed in the forward thinking sixties to avoid such low connotations. A tiny, closed pub called the 'Bank of England' still sports a proud sign on Pollard Street beside Ancoats Works, both empty now of the people who once filled them.

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Two teddies are now

Both in my keeping,

Gifts to toddler grandchildren, us.

When new, Bruin was purple, larger,

With a deep growl.

My brother's.

Teddy was smaller, fawn,

Mine.

He lost his growl after an unfortunate fall 

And a sink bath.

I loved Teddy with a depth which included emotional guilt.

I was jealous because Bruin was bigger and purple

And  my own ted  must never know of that.

I was the oldest but the girl.

Perhaps that played into who got which bear.

Bruin is no longer purple,

Faded after decades on my brother's windowsills,

At home and in his flat.

For a few years now, both have looked down from

The high shelf beside my daughter's childhood raised bed.

They leaned together, slightly forward,

As if wanting to come down.

I climbed up to get them the other day and soon saw why.

Both lambswool, moths have pecked their back legs into small

bald patches.

It's been a poignant time as my mother has lately died too.

I felt I had let them down, the two teds, 

Neglected while cherished still.

I've dusted them off and put them on the coverlet

Of the single bed below,

Where they seem more contented, two old men together.

Better now, their worn little faces seem to say.