Wyre Forest U3A presentation

On Monday 18th January I performed an hour of Weaving Yarns poems and songs to around 180 people from Wyre Forest U3A who packed out Kidderminster Town Hall. Afterwards I had some excellent feedback, sold a quantity of books and had some lively and interesting conversations. One woman said she had been moved to tears and another told me that, yes, women did put their rollers in before they lined up waiting for the Bull to sound so they could leave work (as referred to in Waiting for the Bull). I also spoke to a man who is mentioned in one of my poems, even though I had never met him. He was one of the ‘two young lads’ in the piece I wrote for Mollie Smart called Peg-boarding. It was so good to meet him and he enjoyed reminiscing about the work he used to do all those years ago.

I’ve posted the two aforementioned poems again below. (They appear elsewhere in this blog too.) For a copy of all the poems, with archive photographs, you can buy a copy of my book here http://blackpear.net/authors-and-books/heather-wastie/

Before the poems, here are the written comments I had after the U3A event which are definitely worth shouting about!

Feedback

Comments written at the event:
“A wonderful, inspirational talk – you have captured the spirit of the carpet industry most effectively. Thank you.”
“It was brilliant.”

Comments via Facebook:
“Just been to U3A meeting, which featured an excellent presentation at Kidderminster Town Hall by Heather Wastie the poet, of songs and poems about the carpet industry in Kidderminster. Really enjoyable, and brought back many happy memories. Thank you.”     Jenny
“Just been to a U3A meeting where Heather Wastie told the history of Kidder carpets in verse and song. Lovely voice Heather, didn’t expect that!”     Avril

Waiting for the Bull

The starting line is set –
a formidable arm-in-army,
eyes fixed on freedom
beyond the force field.

Rollers fixed at tea break,
bursting to escape,
Elsie Tanner, Ena Sharples lookalikes
combine into a deep sea of heads,
a Pavlovian tsunami
released by the sound of the Bull.

And they’re off!
Setters, winders, pickers,
fearless of traffic,
flood Corporation Street
engulf Exchange Street,
while those in the know
have steered clear of the tidal wave
of single minded women
whose time is now their own.

© Heather Wastie

 

Peg-boarding
for Mollie Smart

Four ladies
doing secret work
up in the loft
up above the weaving sheds
with two young lads
to fetch and carry

Two young lads
with two heavy satchels
quite a walk
from Park Wharf to New Road
at the bottom of The Butts
up the stairs
up to the loft
up above the weaving sheds

No-one disturbed them
all very quiet
secret work
keep it to yourself

Four ladies
each with a board
full of holes
a board at the side
a pattern in front
a ruler ‘cross the bottom

working sideways
one hand holds a hook
the other round the back
feels the yarns
yarn on bobbins
pull the colours through
and every time
they fill up a row
they move the ruler up
move and copy
till they get to the top
pull the colours through
till the board is full

then the two young lads
take it away
and shear it off

Two young lads
with two heavy satchels
go down from the loft
up above the weaving sheds
down the stairs
quite a walk
from Park Wharf to New Road

If Head Office say
“We don’t like the colour”
one of the ladies pulls it out
and sews in another

They never know
what’s coming in
from day to day

an interesting job
a lovely existence
secret work
keep it to yourself

© Heather Wastie

Where’s our spake gone?

As regular readers of this blog will know, I lived in the Black Country until moving to Kidderminster in 2006. As a child, my home was in Holly Bush Street, Cradley Heath and right now I’m in search of the old spake! I’ve been commissioned to create new work for ‘Where’s Our Spake Gone?’, a Heritage Lottery project managed by Rights and Equality Sandwell, and want to talk to people born and raised in Cradley Heath who use local dialect.

Here are some of the things I’m interested in:

Is Black Country dialect dying out or still going strong?
What’s special about the Cradley Heath dialect?
Do older people who speak ‘broad’, talk to their children and grandchildren in dialect?

I’ll be talking to various groups of people, both adults and children, and am holding a public event in the Holly Bush pub, a short walk from where my house used to be. (Holly Bush Street was demolished in the 70s.) The event is on Thursday 11th February at the Holly Bush, 53 Newtown Lane, Cradley Heath B64 5EA. Drop in for a chat any time between 7.00 and 9.00pm. For those of you who use Facebook, here’s a link to the event there https://www.facebook.com/events/933776720023893/

Here’s one of several poems I’ve written in memory of Holly Bush Street, together with a short poem in dialect, about dialect.

37 Holly Bush Street 

37 Holly Bush Street,
a few doors up from the Mission,
lying in bed on a Sunday morning
trying hard not to listen
to the slowest singing in Cradley Heath,
a rousing hymnotic dirge:
“May all God’s notes be joined as one
Slide heavenward and converge!
And when we’ve emptied out our lungs
And, Lord, can sing no more,
We’ll quench our lasting thirst for thee
In the ’olly Bush next door.”

37 Holly Bush Street,
a few doors down from Dingley’s,
source of kali and sherbet dabs
and chocolate drops sold singly.
And there goes Alice in carpet slippers,
fulfilling her daily pledge,
striding uphill to a soul in need
with a plate full of meat and two veg.
And late in the darkness goes ‘Uncle’ George
who brought in the coal at New Year.
As he rolls down the road with his darling Gladys,
piercing the closing-time air
comes “Good night, Gladys!” and “Goodnight, George!”
all down the street and beyond,
echoing through the silent years
till front doors bang shut and are gone.

37 Holly Bush Street,
the heart of a microcosm,
from the boy who dribbled and never grew old
to the woman who flaunted her bosom.
And one day they shovelled us into a heap
and threw all the pavements away,
stopping just short of the pub and the Mission,
but leaving me nowhere to play.

© Heather Wastie

 

Learnin ter spake

Babby
doh spake
cor spake
learnin
to spake

Yo spake
I spake
I spake
like yo

Babby grows
goz to skewl
learnin to spake

Yo spake
like I spake
an I spake
like yo

Babby grows
goz to uni
knows ow to spake

but yo doh spake
like I spake

so I speak like you.

© Heather Wastie