WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

Posted on by phylliscreative

WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

When my husband and I left for Australia little did we know we were bringing a stowaway. A surprise after Christmas gift maybe. A passenger we had been told did not exist. While I got the negative result, another poor soul was either rejoicing or lamenting the situation. If you haven’t already guessed, all will be revealed soon. I mean Seamus and I were as green as grass. I was nineteen and he was twenty one. Kids really, let loose in a strange land. Getting a bit ahead of myself here.

We arrived in Sydney, two nervous newly – weds, wondering why in earth we had done it. Emigrated that is, not get married. But we had a saviour. My Aunt Mary’s brother took us under his wing and before long we had jobs and a place to live. We settled down, Seamus more than me, homesickness and all that. It really exists ,you know. One embarrassing incident I recall was when one of my newly found friends on leaving work called out to me:

“See you later!”

Now I know its common enough now but not then. I had my poor husband making sandwiches, setting out biscuits and placing our best wedding tea service neatly on the table. And we waited for our workmates arrival. And we waited! And we waited! The sandwiches began to wilt, the bikkies were going soggy until we sort of got the idea it was only a greeting. What a disappointment! I didn’t tell the unarrived guest in work next day. Would you? I could picture her thought process: Stupid Irish!

At that particular time I loved a wee drink and a smoke. Not a raving alcoholic mind you or a sixty a day addict. Just an occasional wee treat. But suddenly they started to taste funny. Couldn’t entertain any of those wee pleasures. Probably a good thing you’re thinking. But strange. I wrote home and requested some Embassy Red cigs. They arrived but no use, cigarettes Australian or otherwise were unsmokable. I don’t think that’s a word. At that point I could find no explanation for it!

Anyway, my cousin Tony and Jill his wife, were coming to visit. They had flown to Australia a few years before us and were returning home. If it hadn’t been for their arrival and stern advice from Jill I might have lost my secret traveller.

“Get to the Doctor ASAP! “ she said and I did.

Four and half months pregnant I was! Well!  To say we were shocked was an understatement. We were so naïve then. I mean what did we expect to happen. We had been enjoying ourselves quite a bit, if you know what I mean. We were married. It was legal! I had to leave work because of a threatening miscarriage. Jason’s now 52 and as strong as an ox and very handsome of course. Takes that from my side of the family.

My first visit to the Doctor and I was told I was lop sided. What? It seems most people are. One breast a little lower than the other and one foot a fraction bigger. I kept looking at myself after that. Maybe if I pushed one up or pulled one down they might stay equal. The boyo didn’t seem to mind. He was quite happy with what I had. After a while I started to resemble a barrage balloon. Even got to the point where I couldn’t see my feet. Hubby had to put on my tights or socks. Flip! He was loving this . Had to tie my laces and all. One of my pet hates is having to rely on a man for anything, especially something as simple as that. And the heat wasn’t helping. 40 degrees in the shade and our flat was on a  very sloped hill. You could fry an egg on the pavement for goodness sake. I hadn’t a clue about what was going to happen to me, apart from the fact that sometime in the future I was having a baby.

I needed someone who knew a little bit about thing  because Seamus and I hadn’t a clue. Lucky enough a friend I used to work with in Belfast Mary emigrated over and we had help.

Eventually I was in hospital, false alarm as it happened, but was kept in. Started off in an intermediate ward, about four beds, but was quickly chucked out as they discovered I had no medical insurance. Dumped in the paupers’ ward, which I actually preferred. More company. I was told, not very sympathetically, that the pain would get worse instead of better. I must have been making a hell of a lot of noise! My son was born on the 27th January, weighing in at over 7lbs. Beautiful baby boy with his Dad’s ginger, auburn hair. That didn’t last long, turned pure blond in the sun, a mass of blond curls, and darkened when we came home.

His Father came up to see him dressed in shorts. He was dressed in shorts not the baby! Shorts! An Irish man, just arrived in Sydney, in shorts. The whitest legs I’d ever seen, like the sweety cigarettes you used to be able to buy. I laughed so much I thought I was going to wet myself. Seamus got me back for that though. He arrived up to take me home with all clothes intact except for my underwear. Now that might have  been fine if he had brought me up trousers but No! A skirt. I gave him the benefit of the doubt because men are so stupid where women are concerned. Apologies to the male members of the audience.

A lovely thing happened to me while I was in hospital. Well, two lovely things actually.!!My New Zealand friend  Carol was getting married during that time and she landed up at the hospital with new hubby Ken in tow and her bouquet of red roses, which she gave to me. I still have them, pressed between an Elvis book on my shelf. Jason is now 52.Second thing was so unexpected. It happened to be my birthday exactly one week after Jason was born I had a medical problem and was still in hospital on my birthday. The nurses of Denistone House arrived at my bedside with a card and pastry with a candle in it. The card I still have but I ate the cake!

So there we were! With a new baby, not a year in Australia and now a family. Two youngsters  who hadn’t got a clue and a lodger who was only marginally more informed.

What did we want for Christmas. Well just a month after the actual day. We gained a present that we had actually carried unbeknownst to us from Belfast.

The best present any couple could wish for, a clueless couple who were going to do their very best for this little boy. I’m sure Jason looked at us cooing into his cot and thought in his  wee mind: “Oh Dear! I need help or they do!”

NOW I KNOW WHAT HEAVEN IS

Posted on by phylliscreative

                   I stretched lazily, enjoying the comfort of my nightly resting place. Oh, that sounds like a reverse vampire. Anyway I prepared to snuggle down for another couple of hours. It was only seven in the morning. Middle of the night to me. I’m retired.

I was just sinking into blissful slumber when suddenly my eyes sprang open. There was something I was supposed to do. The date! What date is today! I reached out for my phone, knocking it completely of the side of my bed and under it. Now trying to find your phone in the dark, didn’t enter my head to turn on the Big Light – remember that term from your Mum and Dad.

“Hey, turn on the Big  Light!”

Also blind as a bat, no glasses on,  I  scrabbled about, nearly dislocating my shoulder. Got it at last, wee bugger, switched it on and clicked. 16th August! 16th August! I was travelling to London to go to The Elvis/ Graceland experience. Had been so looking forward to this since April. I had booked tickets and plane fares twice and twice I had taken ill, unable to go. It was going to be so emotional for me and the myriads of Elvis fans around the country. I had been given the absolute privilege of being able to hold his belt, microphone and sunglasses in my unworthy hands. I was overawed and very nervous. All senses now fully functional, I dived out of my comfort, showered and dressed awaiting my lift. One son, Jason drove me to the airport and  another son, Aaron, named after The King gave me directions. The 16th August was a sad, sad day, the day that The King of Rock and Roll passed away, leaving millions of fans across the world shocked and heartbroken. I have loved and followed him for over 60 years  (Flip, I’m so old!), visited his first home and his last. A small two- bedroomed shack in Tupelo to a mansion named Graceland.

“ After arriving at Stansted airport, board the train, alight at Liverpool Street Station, turn right and just keep walking to London Bridge.!”                                                                             That’s where the exhibition was being held. I was still a little nervous although I have solo travelled many times, from Italy to Las  Vegas without any hesitation. But London was a large metropolis, with windy streets, tall grey buildings, very easy to get lost, and I seemed to be prone to tha’t but always find my way to wherever I want to go. My son’s instructions were really accurate and as I approached the venue every bollard along the way was covered with posters advertising this special event. Elvis was everywhere. My tour time was at three and as it was now  only one thirty, I settled down to wait in the venue’s café with a nice cold glass of beer. My hero was everywhere , videos playing, Elvis music playing, his beautiful face on every wall.  I was in Heaven and more to come. As I was gazing round at the fantastic scenery I spotted the gift shop. Now usually it’s after a tour this appears but there it was right beside me. Calling to me. Come over and have a look. Now, I did resist for all of ten seconds, resisted the temptation for all that time then gave in. Two full bags later, tee shirts, coats , books and hats I prayed my bank manager would understand just how   important this was to me. I didn’t hold out much hope of that but I didn’t care. I was floating on cloud nine.

Eventually three o’ clock rolled round and I was advised to take headphones with me to listen to the documentaries of his life. I don’t think I actually needed them because he had been a part of my life for so long that I knew a lot about The Man. It’s hard to imagine the amount of Elvis history that that room contained. From his humble beginnings in that shack in Tupelo, to the legend he became. A shining star with a magnetic presence, a powerful voice unchallenged by anyone and a beautiful  personality attracting not only the female population but the males as well who admired and loved his music. All of his glorious stage jumpsuits were on display , fit for a King. Even his army uniform and the gold lame suit which he wasn’t too fond of wearing. His everyday wear as well, even Baby Lisa’s tiny dresses and bonnets. Furniture and artifacts from Graceland, film scripts and various pieces of advertising merchandise. His cars and jeeps cordoned off , untouchable but then I don’t think anyone would have tarnished the memory by disobeying the signs. On one of my visits to Graceland I wouldn’t insult my man by touching anything, maybe causing some damage. I only lifted a fir cone from the ground to take home with me. Totally immersed in my Hero’s detailed life, I failed to realise that there was a special time for viewing of the precious objects. I panicked, thinking I’d missed my chance. Andy , one of the staff I become friendly with pleaded my case to the presenter and I was saved. To say my experience was VIP was an understatement. The other viewers left the cordoned off area and I was alone. My own personal VIP experience.

I was so nervous my hands were shaking every time the objects were placed there.  Firstly, the solid silver, gold plated belt which Elvis often wore, and according to the presenter he used to wear it in Graceland with only a pair of cowboy boots on his feet. At that point I felt myself burning up and hastily turned to the next item, his microphone. I was so overawed I couldn’t look up and smile. His microphone! He had held it while he sang!  His sunglasses next. I got to hold them up and look through them. Heaven couldn’t be better than this.

I was so lucky, not only because of special VIP showing but also  because I had followed Elvis for over sixty years. Even carrying all his recordings to Australia when my husband and I emigrated in July 1971. No record player until that Christmas. I am lucky to have been a fan of The King for so many years, to have had the pleasure of listening to his music, watching his concerts and films. To have known him (not personally unfortunately) but in my heart, my head and my soul. When I was in trouble he always seemed to  be there. If I was depressed, his singing lifted me. Yes, I have been lucky and will remain so for the rest of my days, just having him in my life.

Elvis has left the building. Thank You and Good Night!

SOULMATE

Posted on by phylliscreative

Did the earth move for you?

Did the stars shine bright?

Did colours explode?

On that first night.

Did you hold him close

Against your heart?

Told him you loved him

And that you’ll never part

At his soft sweet touch

Did you sigh and moan?

Whisper his name

With a satisfied groan

Did you think this would last?

The two of you together

Wedding dress, ceremony

For ever and ever

But years go by

Tiny cracks start to show

Wider and wider

Till one has to go

If you’re lucky enough

To find the one

To cherish forever

You’ve only just begun.