Snapshots - COMPLETE
The CBB -> Ste Therese's House

#1: Snapshots - COMPLETE Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 9:30 am


Damn Charley!

Carpe Diem (Nan)

Carpe diem, it’s Latin that is, my Sunday school teacher taught me it when I was knee high to a grasshopper. I did most of my learning at Sunday school as you didn’t have to go to school then. I went to the factory school in the mornings but we didn’t learn anything. They didn’t see the point of educating us, especially not the girls. I had to agree with them, what was there that we needed to know – apart from housekeeping which we learned from our own mothers in our homes? We knew where we belonged in life and we didn’t argue with it. Nobody had ambition then, but for the most part we were happy.

Of course it’s all different now, the Great War certainly saw to that. I lost my husband to it during the first months of fighting; they’d said it would all be over by Christmas, but it wasn’t of course. Homes fit for heroes Lloyd George promised those coming back from the front, but there was nothing for those war widows who had given their husbands. I got my vote then, when the war ended, but I never used it, politicians don’t care about people like me, I don’t mean anything to them and it’s better like that. When I was young we knew our place in life and we didn’t argue with it. But now people are getting ideas above their stations.

Take my granddaughter Charlotte, for example. She goes to the factory school but they think she’s clever enough to go in got a scholarship to one to those fancy schools. I don’t see the point myself in her getting all this fancy schooling, she’ll never need it when she’s married with children. No good can ever come of it all. Janet agrees with me, but David, he’s a stubborn one about it all and agrees with those teachers of hers. Call me old fashioned, but it isn’t right all these young ladies teaching, they should be at home looking after their husbands. I know David will probably win Janet round in the end, but I can’t see this benefiting young Charlotte in the long run.


Last edited by pim on Sat Mar 19, 2005 2:01 am; edited 4 times in total

 


#2:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 9:30 am


Thinking it over (Aunt Jane)

I never married, never had children of my own. I’m often asked if I regret it. Sometimes I do, but I never had much choice in the matter. I belong to a generation of women who lost their menfolk to a tragic war; the war to end all wars they said. How wrong they were. That war robbed me of my parents, and the man I loved. He never knew how I felt. When he went to the front to fight I swore that I would tell him when he returned. Only he never returned and I was left with only regret. When the next war came I lost one of my two brothers, my two sister-in-laws, my two nephews and my niece. I lost my other brother in the aftermath of the war; he took his own life to escape the nightmares that haunted his survival. I could not grieve for Michael; he saw a way out of his misery and he took it, how could I deny him that? It was not my brother who returned from the war, it was a hunted, shadow of a man trapped in his nightmares. It was not living, it was merely existing. Despite all this, I am not alone. I share my life with four exceptional young women, my nieces, who brighten up my every moment. They are fighters, survivors, who have stared the odds in the face and beaten them. I know now how a mother feels watching her children grow and change before her eyes. I have watched them grow through the most crucial times of their lives, and how I only wish that their parents could see them now. Caring, maternal, warm Rebecca the homemaker, the one who is there at the end of the day to look after them. Deep, challenging, thoughtful Charlotte who always digs one level deeper than everybody else. Impulsive, funny, lively Elizabeth who can bring a smile to anyone’s face. And complex, compassionate, loyal Harriet whose cheerful exterior hides a wealth of conflicting emotion about her past. They are my life now and I would not be without them.

 


#3:  Author: LesleyLocation: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 9:49 am


Lovely, thank you Pim.

 


#4:  Author: NellLocation: London, England PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 10:37 am


Wow. Thank you Pim.

 


#5:  Author: CazxLocation: Swansea/Bristol PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 10:42 am


Those really offered an insight into Sharlie's family life, thanks for posting!

 


#6:  Author: LizBLocation: Oxon, England PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 1:28 pm


Oooooh! Lovely!

Thanks Pimgerigar

Liz

 


#7:  Author: AllyLocation: Jack Maynard's Dressing Room!! PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 2:28 pm


*sniffles again*

Ive had the priviledge of reading these already ~ (theres more to come) Very Happy and they have made me cry all over again

Thanks Pim xx

(did you see where my keyboard went?)

 


#8:  Author: VikkiLocation: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!! PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 4:55 pm


Thank you pimmyflipflop!!
That was lovely!!!!

 


#9:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 5:26 pm


And s'more... I'll put another one up later as well. I have to go and watch Neighbours, the Simpsons and Hollyoaks now!

My son (Da)

George, my son. I watch him lying contented in Janet’s arms, and I am also content. I have five wonderful daughters, but my son completes me. He is not my first son, but he is the first to be born alive. Janet says no more, but I don’t hear her, I am too lost in the dreams of my son. He will be allowed the chances I was denied, he will not have to suffer a menial life dictated by the clanging of the factory bell. I will not allow it. I don’t want to leave him, but I have to go and tell the girls who are staying with Janet’s mother. They sit before me in a line, their faces eager and expectant awaiting the news. I can barely stop my face from breaking into a huge grin as I tell them. Harriet runs to me and leaps on to my knee, flinging her arms around me and asks when she can come home to see him. I know it can’t be easy for the girls, being sent away to prepare for the baby but it’s for the best. I can’t give Harriet an honest answer and her face crumples, Rebecca takes her away to go and play with Bridget. I am left alone with Charlotte and Elizabeth, I can’t read their expressions and I realise just how little I know my daughters. It has taken George, my son, to break though the bitterness and resentment I have been building up for so many years. I make my excuses to leave and I notice Elizabeth’s face drop a little, but there is no change on Charlotte’s. Charlotte is the clever one, the perceptive one who can read more into people and situations than Janet and I would like. She is old beyond her years, she will go far, she and George.

I leave the girls and walk home quickly, eager to get back to my son. He and Janet are both sleeping when I return. I settle into the chair in the corner and watch them, something I never did with the girls. I know that this time it will all be so different.

 


#10:  Author: LesleyLocation: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 5:45 pm


Thank you Pimandchips

 


#11:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 8:23 pm


Proud (Mam)

A swelling feeling of pride takes over me as she parades in front of me dressed in her new school uniform. She is my little girl and yet today she looks so grown up. I know that from now on things will never be the same again. She laughs and it breaks my heart to realise how little I know my daughter after eleven years. I love her more than anything, I would willingly die for her and yet I do not know nor understand her. I see her with the couple who have taken her in for the duration of the war and the relationship she has with them cuts me in two. Sharlie was always her father’s daughter, they were so similar and because I had so often struggled to understand David, I struggled to understand her. I did not want to deny her the chances others though she deserved but she challenged me to go against my upbringing, against all my values. From a young age her depth frightened me, she was so perspective, so deep, I knew that I couldn’t shield and protect her in the way I wanted to; I felt robbed of a fundamental right as a mother.

But now I see her preparing to take up her scholarship and all the negative feeling fades away and I feel only pride. She is my daughter, my Sharlie girl and I believe she is capable of achieving anything she believes she can.

 


#12:  Author: JosieLocation: London PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 9:39 pm


Pim, these are wonderful.
Thanks.

 


#13:  Author: CazxLocation: Swansea/Bristol PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 10:02 pm


It's so sad that Sharlie's Dad was unable to look at his girls in the same way as he looked at his son when he was born.
I'm loving these outtakes!

 


#14:  Author: AnnLocation: Newcastle upon Tyne, England PostPosted: Thu Mar 17, 2005 10:15 pm


These little snippets are excellent, Pim. Although you've developed Sharlie's character really well, it's interesting to see the thoughts of those close to her (or not, as the case may be) to see just how they've influenced her and made her the person she is.

 


#15:  Author: SusanLocation: Carlisle PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 12:57 am


Thanks Pim, these are a wonderful insight into Sharlie's story.

 


#16:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 8:23 am


Leaving Home (Rebecca)

My little sister is leaving tomorrow. It’s not the first time she’s gone away, but this time it seems so much more final. I don’t begrudge her the teaching position she’s found; it’s just I wish she wasn’t going so far away. I know that Switzerland will be the making of her, but if only she could have found a position in England! Then again, Sharlie was always different from the rest of us, she never belonged, she was always destined for greater things even if she didn’t always know it. As you children our relationship was very love-hate. I was jealous of her, she was always the ‘clever one’. It wasn’t much fun for me at school being constantly outsmarted by my younger sister. I was labelled ‘the naughty one’ as a child, I didn’t particularly object to it as I was more concerned with having my fun than lessons. But at the same time, I knew that it wasn’t the right way for me to win my parents’ affections.

Sharlie was da’s favourite, after George, something I was always resentful of. Winning da’s affections meant more to me than winning mam’s because it seemed such an impossible target to reach. I never had the ambition of my younger sisters – Sharlie ‘the clever one’, Elizabeth ‘the funny one’ and Harriet ‘the pretty one’. Through my, albeit grudgingly, closeness to mam I realised that my future lay in marriage, motherhood and providing a base for my adventuring sisters. This sentiment deepened during the war. I may not have been clever in the bookish sense of the word, but I was smart enough to realise the scale of things. School frustrated me because I knew that there was so much more that I could be doing to help. I did want to learn but at the same time I was only too aware of the need for practical and unskilled workers. I knew that da had resented giving up his education in favour of menial employment, but I wouldn’t.

When I left school I felt a freedom I had never known before. I moved back to Liverpool to live with Aunt Jane and found a factory job. I knew Sharlie believed I could be so much more, even though she never said, but we were worlds apart and she just couldn’t fully understand me. We’ve always been close, more so since Sarah was born, and I know we will always be close in spite of geographical differences. I don’t think that we will ever truly understand each other, but the bond of sisterhood is stronger than that.

 


#17:  Author: LizBLocation: Oxon, England PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 9:39 am


*sniffle*

These are beautiful Pim

Thanks

Liz

 


#18:  Author: SusanLocation: Carlisle PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 9:59 am


Thank you Pim.

 


#19:  Author: DawnLocation: Leeds, West Yorks PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 4:11 pm


These have just given me goosebumps Pim - thankyou

 


#20:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 5:02 pm


This was the original, inspired by misplacing my watch whilst staying at my brother's a couple of weeks ago. It's been up on my LJ for a while for those of you who've already read it.

Time

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was. A time of innocence, a time of confidences. Long ago it must be, I have a photograph, preserve your memory, they’re all that’s left here.

My life has always been dictated by time; it is something I have always been only too acutely aware of. I keep track of the time by my da’s pocket watch, it has been my faithful companion since my mam’s death when I was thirteen. In a way it has helped keep da close to me, da who taught me so much, yet who I never had the real chance to know. He died in France, fighting in vain against the advancing Germans in 1940; when the War broke out there was no hesitation in his mind, he knew that he had to do what was right and signed up straight away because da believed in the power of dreams. It was da who taught me to dream during those long days of my childhood in the back streets of Liverpool where life was dictated by the clanging of the factory bell. Da taught me to reach out and touch the sky, to believe that I could be anything I wanted to be. There is no limit on imagination, he would say to me. Without the influence of da I doubt that I would be the person I am today. I don’t mean to belittle mam and all she did, but she was always the one with the reservations, who would hold back and weigh up the cons before accepting the pros. But time is precious, often there isn’t enough of it to consider all the options. At first I would sit staring, completely transfixed, at da’s watch as I saw the seconds become minutes and the minutes become hours. Its rhythmic tick and the flow of the hands were my comfort in the immediate aftermath of mam’s death. As a going away present to university I was bought a wrist watch, but still I couldn’t bring myself to part with da’s watch, it meant so much more to me than anyone would ever know.

My relationship with da had its ups and downs, what parent-child relationship doesn’t? I often wonder how things might have been if he had survived the war. The last time I saw da was in September 1939 when we went off to the Front. I was only nine years old, yet somehow I knew I would not see him again, still I remember the swelling pride I felt as I watched him go away to fight for our freedom. I knew very little about da, and he was not around much when I was a child. He worked in a factory making ship parts, the hours were long and unsociable, and the pay was a little more than lip service. There were so many nights that I would wait on the steps of the pub with one or the other of my sisters waiting for da, a wait we always knew would be fruitless. So why did we continue to wait? I suppose because we clung to the hope that one day da would choose to come home to us over the pub once his work was done. Da who taught me to dream had been denied his own; during the long hours he would spend standing at the bar staring into the bottom of a pint glass he would remember the dreams he once had. My Aunt Carol told me he had been clever and offered the chance to continue his education, but his parents had needed him to bring a wage in and he’d left school, reluctantly, at fourteen. At school I was singled out as the ‘clever one’, at home ‘the one who would follow in David’s footsteps’. Although I did not realise it then, in me da saw a new way to fulfil the dreams he had once had. I never saw it because I believed that he had no time for my sisters and I, only for my brother George, the son he always wanted. I believed that it was George he had marked out to have the chance to achieve those dreams, a chance George would never get to have. George died before he reached his second birthday, during his short life we had seen a side to da we hadn’t known of before, when George died it was as though something inside of da died as well.

We only have one photograph of da, but I don’t need it to remember him. My sister Harriet has it. All I have to do is close my eyes and da is there beside me. Touch the sky Sharlie, he says to me. But I think he knows that I have done. Da is always with me now, da who taught me to tell the time on the pocket watch I now call my own. I see myself as a small child sitting on his knee in the front room before the dying fire studying the numbers around the watch, fascinated by the movement of the hands. Even now I can still sit watching the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes into hours. I have learned to appreciate the value of every moment for we never know when time will stop for us.

 


#21:  Author: patmacLocation: Yorkshire England PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 5:18 pm


Lovely! I've just read them all through and they are so perceptive. and thoughtful.

I particularly liked Rebecca. I know people like her and they are rocks on which we build. Always there, and more content in some ways than those who strive for ambitious goals. I don't think we appreciate them enough.

They give an added depth to Sharlie's character and background.

I've waffled a bit there, but they are so good. Thank you.

 


#22:  Author: JosieLocation: London PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 5:19 pm


The last two are as wonderful as the others Pim. Thanks

 


#23:  Author: LizBLocation: Oxon, England PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 6:24 pm


I'm so glad you misplaced your watch Pim

Liz

 


#24:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 7:27 pm


Alice (Elizabeth)

Alice. The name of a child who would never get the chance to live. I held my sister Sharlie as she grieved for the loss of the child she had been carrying, knowing all the while that it was the only possible conclusion to the tale. Since then my mind has turned more frequently to the two older brothers who died when they were born. I do not even know if they were named, mam and da never spoke of them. In my head I imagine them to be the ideal older brothers, I named them Robert and Peter and it is in them that I confide my worries. In my mind they are my protectors, the ones who will fight off the wrongs of the world for me. I have never shared these dreams with my sisters. I don’t even know if they ever think of them. They are never spoken of, as though they never existed, but they did, they were real and they were my brothers; just as Alice was real, was my niece and was Sharlie’s daughter.

You can’t think of it as Alice, I would tell Sharlie, knowing deep down that her denying Alice would be akin to me denying Robert or Peter. Could I give them up? I doubt it, they are as much a part of me as Rebecca, Sharlie, Elizabeth, Harriet, Bridgie and George. At Christmas Rebecca lights candles for mam, da, nan, Aunt Carol, Bridgie and George. But there are no candles for Robert and Peter, they are the forgotten members of the family, as though they do not belong to us. But they do, even though we never knew them, and that is why I remember them. One day someone will ask me why there are always two unlit candles on my windowsill, but until that time I will hold my two unknown brothers in my heart.

 


#25:  Author: LizBLocation: Oxon, England PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 7:45 pm


Crying or Very sad

Thanks Pim

Liz

 


#26:  Author: Carolyn PLocation: Lancaster, England PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 8:50 pm


These are beautiful, thanks Pim.

 


#27:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 2:00 am


Last couple... well you can either have them now, or when I get back from Glasgow - around midnight!

Guilt (Harriet)

The dictionary defines guilt as (a) the fact of having committed an offence or a crime (b) a feeling of having done something wrong. I’m not sure that what I feel falls exactly into either of those two categories, but I know that I have been plagued by guilt since the day my little sister Bridget died. It doesn’t matter how often I’m told that it wasn’t my fault, this feeling won’t go away. The excuses keep coming, but I know that it was my fault. I should have been the one keeping an eye on her, she was my ‘unofficial’ responsibility, just as I was Elizabeth’s, and she in turn was Sharlie’s, who was Rebecca’s. I had nightmares for so long after it happened; I couldn’t sleep because I knew that as soon as I gave in to sleep the image of her would be before me. I felt as though I’d let everybody down. It was the only time I was glad that mam and da had died, that I wouldn’t have to live with their disappointment. All I’d ever wanted was for them to notice me and be proud. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says, or how often I’m told not to blame. I know that it was my fault.

It only takes a split second for everything to change; that tiny split second can dictate the way the rest of your entire life will go. I will always be haunted by Bridget’s death. It was the main reason why I went into nursing. If there was any way in which I could prevent someone else from living with the guilt that I have, then this would be it. There are times when we can’t help, and then those helpless feelings wash over me. That was why I ran away. I wanted so much for Chloë to survive, I prayed so hard, something I’d hardly done since Bridget died. I truly believed that she would pull through, but she didn’t. I was with her when she died, it was strangely peaceful, she just gave up and stopped. I was there when they broke the news to her parents and I watched her mother break down, I saw the disbelief in her father’s eyes. I remembered when George died, I had only been four years old, not completely sure of what was going on, and even now, so many years later, I felt the same.

I couldn’t go back to my flat that night, I couldn’t get a train back to Liverpool either so I walked down by the Thames all night, with my collar turned up defensively against the wind and the outside world. It’s funny that even with all its negative connotations I feel at peace near water. Maybe it’s the reminder of my happiest childhood memory, the days in Southport, the first time I became truly aware of a world outside Liverpool, a world just waiting for me to explore. In time, I eventually learned to take the chances offered to me by life and learned to live again. I learned to seize these chances with both hands, a vow to make the most of everything; in a way I was doing it for Bridget as well, taking the chances she would never have. After a while it becomes easier to pretend that everything is fine, to put on an act for the outside world, but the guilt never completely leaves you. I did not commit a crime in the legal sense of the word, my crime was to grieve and momentarily lose sight of my responsibility, and that was also what I did wrong. The only time I feel free from the shackle of guilt is on the dockside in Liverpool where she drowned. I know she will never leave me, but there my memories are stronger.

 


#28:  Author: pimLocation: St Andrews (right next to the beach) PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 2:01 am


Do you hear (Bridget)

Mam died last week. I’m fed up of people dying and I’m more than fed up of this beastly war. Rebecca said we had to scatter the ashes today. I didn’t want to, the funeral was only yesterday, I hate funerals, but Sharlie said Rebecca was right and the others always agree with Sharlie. It’s just because she’s clever and goes away to boarding school. Harriet will do as well in September, so that’s why she always agrees with Sharlie. Rebecca said we have to scatter the ashes at the docks, I don’t see why. I don’t like the docks, they smell and one time I saw a rat here, it was horrible. Rebecca won’t let me carry the urn, she says I might drop it. Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I hate being the youngest, I wish George hadn’t died. It’s so boring, and all the others think I’m silly, well I’m not and one day I’ll show them.

Rebecca lets us take it in turns to throw the ashes into the water. It’s sad but I don’t want to cry. I can hardly remember mam, I wasn’t quite six when we got evacuated and we’ve not seen her since, well only for a few days. I watch the ashes floating on the water for a few minutes and then I realise that Harriet has started crying. Nobody’s paying any attention to me, they won’t mind if I just slip away for a couple of minutes to explore, will they?

 


#29:  Author: LesleyLocation: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 9:14 am


Oh how sad. Crying or Very sad

Thank you Pim - these out-takes have been spectacular.


Last edited by Lesley on Sat Mar 19, 2005 11:43 am; edited 1 time in total

 


#30:  Author: LizBLocation: Oxon, England PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 10:59 am


Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad

*echoes Lesley*

Thanks Pim

Hope you have a good trip to Glasgow and back

Liz

 


#31:  Author: JosieLocation: London PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 1:21 pm


Oh that last one is so sad!

Thanks Pim. These were wonderful.

 


#32:  Author: DawnLocation: Leeds, West Yorks PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 1:29 pm


Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad

thankyou Pim

 


#33:  Author: AllyLocation: Jack Maynard's Dressing Room!! PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 5:26 pm


Thank you Pim, these are so beautiful, the last one made me blub more than before. Crying or Very sad

 


#34:  Author: NinaLocation: Peterborough, UK PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 5:46 pm


Thank you Pim - these are fabulous Crying or Very sad I started reading the original Sharlie, then RL meant I got so behind I stopped; but these have made me go back and find it in the archives, spent most of this morning catching up with the school years and am just into the university years - SLOC is going out tonight so I'm going to finish it! (and use my foot spa at the same time Cool )

 


#35:  Author: nikkieLocation: Cumbria PostPosted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 8:08 pm


Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad
((Harriet & Bridget))

 


#36:  Author: SusanLocation: Carlisle PostPosted: Sun Mar 20, 2005 12:44 am


Wonderful Pim thank you, very sad but they bring a depth to the story.

 


#37:  Author: AnnLocation: Newcastle upon Tyne, England PostPosted: Sun Mar 20, 2005 12:32 pm


Crying or Very sad

Thanks Pim.

 


#38:  Author: Carolyn PLocation: Lancaster, England PostPosted: Sun Mar 20, 2005 8:31 pm


Thanks Pim, that last one was heartrending. Crying or Very sad

 


#39:  Author: VikkiLocation: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!! PostPosted: Sun Mar 20, 2005 9:30 pm


Wow!
Pimmy, those were incredible!
Thank you hunny!

 


#40:  Author: NellLocation: London, England PostPosted: Mon Mar 21, 2005 10:46 am


Thank you Pim. these were wonderful, poor Harriet and Bridget...

 


#41:  Author: SophoifeLocation: down under Down Under PostPosted: Mon Mar 28, 2005 6:23 pm


Wow Pim!

(((Harriet)))

 




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