Tag: memories

Writing cleanses the soul

Ian Hunter6 Comments

I often wonder why I have this urge to write

it all started seriously in my retirement

my mind became free of technical and business tasks

writing started as a hobby for me

something lighthearted and fun to pass the time

steadily developing into a daily pre-breakfast ritual

why is there such a burning desire in me to write something daily

I have been trying to understand it for the last six years

there is no clear answer or definition

the closest explanation I can give is in these words

we go through life performing actions

mostly driven by the demands of others

in those rare moments of solitude

when you are alone with just your thoughts

ideas are created

dreams are made

fears are confronted

memories are cherished

if you leave these thoughts in your head

they may disappear forever

if you write down your thoughts

they become memorialized 

they can then be read by others

you might entertain, enlighten or inspire somebody 

Writing cleanses the soul

My time with the owl

Ian Hunter3 Comments

 Many years ago

I was driving to the river

In North Wales

For an early morning fly fishing session

It was still dark

There was no traffic around

I saw something flash in front of me

Then I heard a thump

I pulled over and walked back

I found an owl in the roadway

He was still breathing but not moving

I picked him up carefully

Placed him inside my Barbour Jacket

Continued my drive to the river

It was almost dawn when I parked the car

I took my fishing gear to the water

Reached inside my jacket

Brought out the owl

He was awake and looking at me 

His big eyes stared at me

He had regained some strength

Enough to perch on my hand

He did not seem afraid or in distress

His head kept turning as he looked around

After a while his wings stretched out

I held him out at arms length

He looked into my eyes one last time

Flapped his wings and took off

He flew straight down the river

Before turning into the woods

The fishing that day was not memorable

But I will always remember 

My time with the owl

What does the word spoon conjure up for you

Ian HunterLeave a comment

A spoon full of sugar

Born with a sliver spoon

Spoon fed

A wooden spoon

Cough medicine

Spooning with somebody

Breakfast cereal 

Feeding a baby

Tea spoon

Coffee spoon

Peanut butter

A baby shovel

Ice cream spoon

A fork without tangs

Lick the spoon

Lost in the dishwasher

Chicken noodle soup

Egg and spoon race

Honey

Knives and forks

A ladle for dieters 

Plastic spoon

Its like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife

Nutella

Uri Geller

Stirring a drink

The loving spoonful band

A greasy spoon cafe

Satisfying sounds

Ian Hunter2 Comments

Certain sounds are really satisfying

The clunk of a luxury car door closing

The chink of ice dropped into a cocktail glass

Children laughing while playing

The hiss of a cold beer can opening

A crackling fire

Closing the breech of a vintage side by side shotgun

The sizzle of stir fried food

A tennis ball hit by a racket

A cash register bell

Firing up a race car engine

Church bells at a wedding

The whistle of a boiling kettle

When an axe chops wood

Rain hitting a tin roof

A friendly phone ring

A golf ball dropping in the hole

A jet engine starting

A knife chopping vegetables

The pop of a champagne cork

The boom of the fireworks finale

A doorbell

The fridge door closing softly

The gurgling when the bathwater empties

The final tap of a hammer on a nail

A waterfall

Bagpipes at a funeral

High heels clicking over a cobbled floor

Water slapping against a rocking boat

The woosh of a bottle rocket

A broom sweeping a dusty floor

The clunk of a safe opening

Willow on leather during a cricket match

The ding of a hotel reception bell

The silence when a leaf blower stops

The Kop singing You’ll Never Walk Alone

The swearing vicar and the model sailing ship

Ian HunterLeave a comment

my first job was in shipbuilding 

on the banks of the river Mersey near Liverpool

they employed thousands of workers

all with different skills organized into trades

they ranged from highly skilled technicians

to unskilled laborers who basically carried stuff

workers were grouped in teams 

assigned to stay with a build until completion

it was fascinating to witness a ship being built

large sections welded together on the slipway

the empty hull being launched into the river

machinery installed while floating in a basin

I was put with a team of ten guys

they had a small hut for tea breaks and lunch

a place to shelter from the raw winter

they told outrageous tales and made fun of everybody

one guy in the hut was nicknamed the vicar

not because he was particularly religious

a satirical reflection of his devotion to thievery alcohol and porn

the vicar never failed to put a swearword in every sentence

the vicar was addicted to stealing from the shipyard

one day producing a block of wood

lignum vitae which was used to make shaft bearings

the vicar announced he was making a model f***ing boat 

after many weeks of carving it was time to sail it

a perfect replica of an old sailing ship

we all gathered with excited anticipation

the vicar lowered his beautifully carved model into the water

it sank straight away 

to howls of laughter

the vicar swore a thousand different curses  

all the other guys knew that lignum vitae does not float

madam palindrome

Ian Hunter1 Comment

temperature drops

fun stops

leaves falling

winter calling

wind howling

walkers scowling

fingers numb

cold bum

reaching home

madam palindrome

fireplace burning

stomach churning

warming hands

making plans

cocktail making

stirring shaking

old fashioned

wickedly impassioned 

cutting cheese

bees knees

garlic crackers

appetite highjackers

fireside drinking

wistful thinking

friends departed

feeling downhearted 

watching flames

recalling names

memory lane

grieving pain

doorbell ring

voices sing

friends arrive

feeling alive

laughter abounds

sweet sounds

drinks flowing

happiness growing

stopped forsaking

memories making

You should never go back expecting things to be exactly the same

Ian Hunter5 Comments

A few years ago

I visited the town in England that I left 25 years ago

the place where I raised my children

I remember them playing in a vibrant neighborhood

curiosity led me to drive by the house I used to own 

it was a not how I remembered it

it used to be a thriving community

the once pristine senior citizens residence was boarded up

there were no young children playing in the street

a landscaped common area was neglected and overgrown

many of the homes were showing signs of neglect

there was an air of decay and despair 

curiosity led me to drive by the local pub

I had spent many happy times there

socializing with friends and celebrating events

it had changed a lot

graffiti adorned every boarded up window and the roof was crumbling

I learned that the business failed many years ago

the local factory that employed most of the town had long since closed

unemployment had taken its toll on the community

nothing was like I remembered

and I had no idea it would change so much when I left there

but I was looking back through rose tinted glasses

and my memories were distorted by the pain of a broken relationship

you should never go back expecting things to be exactly the same

things change with time and go through cycles of regrowth

I have since learned that the site of the old factory has been redeveloped for residential use

new housing has attracted young families

children once again play in the streets

the town lives on

You should never go back

Ian Hunter3 Comments

A few years ago

I visited the town in England that I left 25 years ago

the place where I raised my children

I remember them playing in a vibrant neighborhood

curiosity led me to drive by the house I used to own 

it was a big mistake

it used to be a thriving community

the once pristine senior citizens residence was boarded up

there were no young children playing in the street

a landscaped common area was neglected and overgrown

many of the homes were showing signs of neglect

there was an air of decay and despair 

curiosity led me to drive by the local pub

I had spent many happy times there

socializing with friends and celebrating events

that was another big mistake

graffiti adorned every boarded up window and the roof was crumbling

I learned that the business failed many years ago

the local factory that employed most of the town had long since closed

unemployment had taken its toll on the community

nothing was like I remembered

and I had no idea it would change so much when I left there

better to keep the memories of times gone by

than to shatter them with images of the present

I felt fortunate to have escaped the decay

but sad to have witnessed the ravages of time during my absence

you should never go back

Don’t throw away all the memories

Ian Hunter9 Comments

his wife was complaining about all his stuff in the attic

he reluctantly decided to go through all the old boxes

stuff that had been put away for years

obviously not needed but for some reason never been discarded 

he sifted through the contents of the first small box

a tin box full of foreign coins

memories of his traveling days flooded back

places he had visited on business trips and vacations

images flashed through his mind for each coin he touched

an old watch that no longer worked

it was of no value except it belonged to his father

he wound it up and it started to tick

he could hear his father’s voice again

he missed him so much

a notebook from many years ago

containing wish lists of things to do and places to see

they had written it when first married

he read off each item slowly

pausing to recall the joys of each achieved wish

trying to remember why some never happened

bunches of keys from previous dwellings

he held a front door key tightly

remembering opening that door many years ago

seeing his young children run to greet him

they are grown now with kids of their own

a big old bulky calculator he used in college

reliving the hours he spent solving problems with that

the stressful times of exams

he could remember all those long hours of study

he did find some bits and broken pieces

and a collection of old pens and pencils

he carefully put them in a paper bag

before closing the box

he had removed less than ten percent of the contents

over dinner that night his wife cornered him asking if he had cleaned out everything in the attic as promised

he hesitated before saying he had cleared some of it from one small box

she pushed him harder wanting to know why he was keeping all that junk

he insisted that it might be a small box of stuff but it contained a lifetime of great memories

she could see he was getting upset and gave him a big hug

whispering to him softly “I am so sorry, please keep your boxes full of memories”

he replied “thanks, I did clear some space for us to make a few more memories”