Jamaica Inn
#1
Jamaica Inn

Five years between us, and still sharing a bedroom. I stared at the blue and white wave patterns in my brother's candlewick bedspread, they seemed to move like the ocean in the half-light of our small bedroom.
"Go on, please tell me the story again".
"Piss off and go to sleep, it's two in the fucking morning and we are leaving at four you little fucker".

"Keith, wake up, time to go".

Dad had turned off the heating and the water. I wrote the note for the milk man and drew a small 'Kilroy was here' in the corner. It was still dark outside as I climbed into the car in my Kevin Keegan slippers and flannelette dressing gown. I slipped inside the sleeping bag and positioned my pillow against the cold car door, I remember allowing my teeth to chatter into a laugh.
All the trees and fields looked the same as they rolled by. Cold, lonely sheep looked like bushes in the gloom of daybreak, the mist gased me to sleep.
By the time we reached the Cliffton suspension bridge, the sun was up and on me, I held my breath for the crossing as my brother tried to make me laugh.
Somerset smelled of cider and we cheered as the sign passed by, the apples put me to sleep again. Down into the clotted cream of Devon, we stopped at Barnstaple
for breakfast, a milky flask of coffee and marmalade on toast. We kept quiet listening to dad snore, huffing at our boredom. Apparently he needed the rest or he could have "killed us all".

"I can see the sea, I can see the sea", shouts my brother, beating me for the third year running as we pass the view point. Welcome to Combe Martin, yeah, just another four hours to wait in the car until the caravan's ready.
"Mum did you pack my trunks" ?
"Shhh your dad's trying to sleep".
I lower my voice to a whisper. "Hey Chris, tell me the story again".
"Shut up, we're here now, who needs stories"?
"Mum can I have my trunks"?
"Shhh".

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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#2
This is lovely.  I love the long lines. I love the rich and vivid details, especially “mist gassed me to sleep” and “held my breath for the crossing” (I used to do that too), and “clotted cream of Devon.”

I like how the narrator doesn’t have to tell us who is speaking for us to know, and how the whole thing is a whisper except the single line, “Keith, wake up ...”.   It startles me every time I read that line because it is so loud compared to the rest.  

The whole thing is a beautiful scene that makes me somehow feel nostalgia for a memory that isn’t mine.  

The only place I stumbled was the first sentence.  It wasn’t immediately apparent to me that you meant a five year gap in age, and not five years since they had last had to share a room. Perhaps “yet” instead of “and?”
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
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#3
Thanks for help Quix, I made an adjustment, yes this is of an age and pure nostalger, so I'm pleased by your comments, thanks again, Keith

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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#4
Lovely. Warm intimate share of family life. Took me back to my own childhood trips to the beach for summer holidays. 'I can see the sea' must be a universal declaration! I still say it.
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
feedback award

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#5
(03-01-2018, 06:51 AM)just mercedes Wrote:  Lovely. Warm intimate share of family life. Took me back to my own childhood trips to the beach for summer holidays. 'I can see the sea' must be a universal declaration! I still say it.
Thanks for the kind words Mercedes, I still say it aswell with or without the kids, being from the north of England we also do the same with Blackpool tower Smile Best Keith

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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#6
I'm still digesting this lovely piece, but since this is in misc, I suppose I can express
my worries about how snowed-in it must be over there (this is the real Jamaica Inn, I presume; but also of course over there)
Hope your roofs don't break.
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#7
(03-04-2018, 12:32 AM)RiverNotch Wrote:  I'm still digesting this lovely piece, but since this is in misc, I suppose I can express
my worries about how snowed-in it must be over there (this is the real Jamaica Inn, I presume; but also of course over there)
Hope your roofs don't break.

Hi RiverNotch
Yes Im stranded in Limerick at the moment all uk flights cancelled this weekend, The title comes straight from Daphne du Maurier's book by the same name, it really captured my imagination as a child, I think we read it in school. Devon and Cornwall are full of stories about pirates and smugglers, secret passages leading from the coast. We went to the same place every year for our holidays so the whole scrpit is a helix in my DNA. I just love visiting the place, not to live there though, that would stop it being special. Thanks for reading and your concern. All the snow is begining to melt so normality should return soon. Best Keith

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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