Swings and Roundabouts (827 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: fiction
Rating: 1.34 on 48 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Flash Harry (View user info) at 2008-07-25 07:05:17 EDT
I'm not a religious man. I don't believe in God, but if I did I'd tell you that he works in mysterious ways.
The year is 1947, in an underprivileged area of Glasgow called Thornliebank. The war is so recent that not much has changed. Rationing, poverty and struggle are so ingrained on life that they are barely mentioned with any tone of surprise. The reality of post-war Britain is, in many ways, even harsher than the preceding years. A sense of mourning lies upon the tenement housing like a blanket, not only for the young men that died in the name of their King, but for those that have returned crippled, broken, or mentally scarred.
The poor live in the terrible grip of unemployment. There is no longer an urgency for munitions or medical aid or the Home Front. Soldiers queue up for gigs as labourers, grateful that they can at least stand. They cannot help but wonder exactly what they have been fighting for.
The world is black and white. Clothing consists of hand-me-downs and self-styled improvements on ill-fitting garments. The narrow tenement buildings that house so many families like a vertical village are grey with soot and smog from the shipyards. The pavements, the river water, the children are filthy.
In a time as inhospitable as this, humanity shines like a warm bulb. Days may grind with insufferable boredom, or labour; beds might prod and creak beneath the uncomfortable weight upon them; but securing something so simple as a banana, or a tin of peaches, can encourage a hopeful smile.
In one of these grubby Thornliebank tenements, a few floors up, wee May's knuckles tear at the sides of the table. She is in labour with her first child, and squeezed into the kitchenette is her husband, big Jim, and the local GP, Dr. Barr.
The pain is incredible, but strangely welcome to May. Since the outbreak of the war, when she was parted with Jim, a numbness had overcome her. Sick with worry for her sweetheart, and exhausted from the effort of working like a mule for her country, and disillusioned with painting her legs with gravy to disguise the fact that she could not source, let alone afford, a clean pair of tights, this pain is a welcome reminder of life. The life that she and Jim had created on their wedding night, that magical affirmation of all the prayers and hopes she'd muttered.
The numbness had only been lifted during air raids, when the sirens sounded and she was shrouded in darkness and the night sky had crackled with flashes of light and the rumble of war. During such nights a sickening, strangling fear had gripped her, and her only relief could be found in thoughts of Jim, and God that she loved so dearly.
This pain is different. Her stomach aches with the strains of labour, sweat drips from her forehead and her fingers clench the wooden table with agony, but it all seems worth it. Jim is here, and the family is on its way, and there the clouds of this life are parting.
Jim strokes his wife's hair lovingly. She could never know how the very thought of her kept him alive through so many nights. He had witnessed some terrible things, and lost some beloved friends. But his religion helped, as did May. She would be in Glasgow waiting for him, and he had to return in one piece. It became a mission and a mantra to him over the years. Get through this day, he told himself each and every morning, and soon you'll be home.
True to form, there were bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover when he left France, and headed once more for British soil. The lads had sung the famous song heartily, some of them weeping with the relief that they would soon be home. Jim afforded himself a moment of prayer, and he had no doubt that his faith and his desperation to hold May in his arms had seen him through times and places from which he was not supposed to escape. He had been lucky. He had been watched over.
The doctor was urging May to push. She had to push harder, and there was something unsavoury in his tone of voice. Something urgent and desperate. May threw her head back and screamed with the effort of it all, while Jim stood by her side, quivering with frustration. As she screamed, and the doctor began to panic, the taste of bile rose in Jim's throat. Something was not right.
When the child was born, May lay crying softly on the table. The pain had been unbearable. She was too exhausted to even sit up. The doctor wiped the baby down and wrapped it in a towel, severing the umbilical chord. Jim could not speak, and a piercing silence fell over the room.
The doctor turned his back on the couple, and lay the child down on the bunker. Jim could not watch what was happening, and he turned to his stricken wife, pouring water over her lips and stroking her hair and telling her just how proud he was of her. With her energy fading, she gripped his strong hand, as Jim muttered a prayer to God.
The doctor turned to them after a few moments, holding the silent child. The towel was wrapped completely around it, the face covered up. Their firstborn just a silent little parcel.
Condolences were made and the doctor left. May fell asleep from the sheer force of her exertions. Jim held his child close to his chest, and fought to limit himself to a single tear, that welled in his eye before spilling out onto his cheek. It ran slowly down his rough skin, and he wiped it away from his chin.
Through the back door of the tenements was a community area, where the womenfolk would meet to gossip, scold the children and batter the dirt from their laundry. The water was heated by a raging furnace that always burned, in a little outhouse near the lavatory.
The women fell silent when big Jim stepped from the building, holding the parcel to his body. He walked slowly, and steadily to the outhouse. For a moment he hesitated and wondered whether he could bear to look his son in the face. Beneath the towel lay the hopes and dreams that he and May had talked about and prayed for. His fingers ran across the lining of the towel, but he could not look. He placed the into the furnace as gently as he could manage, and stepped away as it took up in a blaze of heat and flames, praying silently for the strength that he was going to need.
I am the son of the youngest of May and Jim's children. Had their first not been stillborn, it is unlikely that they would have had my father at all. Mysterious ways, indeed.
User Reviews
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2008-07-27 00:13:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Gravy?
"Placed the into"
Nice. I especially enjoyed the description of dreary post WWII Scotland.
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2008-07-26 05:44:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Single tear? What kind of Scot are you for fuck sake?
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2008-07-25 22:58:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Meh.
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2008-07-25 18:56:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Jim is also unhappy when you litter
Submitted by no1hasdis (user info) at 2008-07-25 15:51:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-07-25 15:12:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-07-25 19:32:36 BST (#)
Ranking: -2
i don't make the rules.
well, i did, but you know, a rule is a rule.
otherwise i'd have mccallum and kaos king whingeing that i only apply it to them. Fat Mike too.
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There are always exceptions to the rules and besides, I thought you'd enjoy McCallum & Co. whingeing like the whiney faggots they are.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-07-25 14:32:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
i don't make the rules.
well, i did, but you know, a rule is a rule.
otherwise i'd have mccallum and kaos king whingeing that i only apply it to them. Fat Mike too.
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-07-25 13:14:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-07-25 18:09:42 BST (#)
Ranking: -2
auto 'single tear' -2
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Shame on you apollo
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-07-25 13:09:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
auto 'single tear' -2
Submitted by Lib (user info) at 2008-07-25 12:46:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 11:49:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Don't worry about it, Yozz. It would be rather boring if everybody liked everybody.
Submitted by Yozz (user info) at 2008-07-25 11:46:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm not sure why I do not like you - just can't put my finger on it.
Submitted by Director (user info) at 2008-07-25 10:35:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Life is a series of complete and utter random occurences, nothing more.
Well written, but I also take issue with the whole "single tear" thing. GAH.
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:44:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Liked it, although I LOATHE the use of 'single tear', 'lone tear' or 'solitary tear' in any kiond of work.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:38:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:24:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
SLUT.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:15:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I can't think of anything else I'd need. Except maybe a travel-sized toothbrush and toothpaste (just in case).
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:14:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
OH GOD, I thought I was the only person under 50 to tuck tissues up their sleeves.
Uncanny.
If you had a car (sorry I just outed your no car status) would you keep in it - a box of tissues, a tartan blanket, a bottle of water, a first aid kit, a tin of glucose coated travel sweets, Tesco carrier bags, wet wipes and a Tickle Me Elmo?
I do.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:09:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Oh it is very suggestive. Baby blue and white pinstripes with paisley pattern motifs all over it in fine thread.
The tissues are tucked up my sleeves for easy access.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:09:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I think my ice cream man is on holiday.
I really fancy a Mr Whippy.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:04:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm wearing a sexually ambiguous shirt
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Are we talking George Michael, Club Tropicana here?
Does it have tissues in the pockets, just in case?
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:03:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 14:00:08 BST (#)
Ranking: 0
I see what you mean about EI sniffing about all over your comments, Pheeley. He's at it on this post and on Spam's. I can almost hear him panting through the speakers...
---------------
A touch of the green eyed monster perchance?
Really FJ rise above it and sort that woman out yeah!
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:02:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
There's no need for that. The sun is shining, I just got paid, and I'm wearing a sexually ambiguous shirt. Life is good.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:01:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
FJ I know you are pretending not to be bothered.
go and -2 my favourite post I wrote all by myself.
:)
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 09:00:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I see what you mean about EI sniffing about all over your comments, Pheeley. He's at it on this post and on Spam's. I can almost hear him panting through the speakers...
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:58:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
thats naughty orphelia, poor pasty FJ :(
Submitted by Cyrus (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:57:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Impressive
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:56:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
O, cruel fate...
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:56:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Oh, nothing el, I was just... hey wait, look what you did!! You bastard! poor FJ
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:55:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
you wanna do what?
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:53:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I am just dying to drop a 0 on this streak. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't you brown leather addicted trollop!
Submitted by mr-bee (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:48:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
one of your best. excellent.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-07-25 08:24:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Bra-fucking-VO Motherfucker, Bravo indeed. Excellent story/anecdote
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:50:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 12:12:04 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
HAVE you been reading trashy Scottish paperbacks again, purchased 10p for 5 from a rainy carboot?
Answer me you swine!
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Bookworld, books in there for 10p! Proper big real books like War and Peace! One day I aspire to read that brick. I'm determined.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:37:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You disgust me.
I am going to sunbathe and eat stuffed olives.
I'd love a Pimms :(
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:27:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
That's true. It was bloody hard to wank over that one, let me tell you.
Still, I managed.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:24:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Don't lead folk into thinking i am lewd all the time, I just sent you the longest email about my new mouthwash, cutting out coke and the effects on my teeth.
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:22:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I never know if I can trust things you make me look up. Christ, the other day I was in the bowels of t'Internet looking at nipple-enhancing devices because of you and your lewd messages.
What a good day that was.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:20:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh FJ, vill du ha din bollar som nibbled av ett fett gammal böckling?
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:20:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 12:17:38 BST (#)
Ranking: 0
Doris Davidson? Qu'est-ce que c'est?
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it is called a search engine, FJ. Read one and you will get why.
(my gran passes them on after she reads them, it passes the time. I also get her granny mags wth sewing templates and knitting patterns and stories of women overcoming thyroid disorders)
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:17:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Doris Davidson? Qu'est-ce que c'est?
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:16:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really liked the very short sentences.
Wheeely liked.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:15:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Did I say you could go for lunch? Did I?
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:12:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The world is black and white. - I fucking knew it!
- Nice story, touching, well written.
Sort of a reseblance to all the still born Heroin junkie babies born in Scotland these days.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:12:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
HAVE you been reading trashy Scottish paperbacks again, purchased 10p for 5 from a rainy carboot?
Answer me you swine!
Submitted by myshit (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:11:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Didn't read it old egg.
Submitted by czwij (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:10:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
my god, man
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-07-25 07:09:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Dear God, this reads like Doris davidson novel, wtf?
And picture, douchabag?