Edinburgh, Portobello High School
Clyde the dog
My granddads dog Clyde was a fighting one fellow who lived his life to the full. He lived a powering sum of fourteen years. In our case, for a dog, that is long. Clyde had a lovely coat of armour standing out with a big, shaggy stream of silver and a waterfall of grey fluff.
His personality was full of fun, fear and frolicking. But his one great fear and nemesis was in fact the pigeon. Hours of chasing pigeons of a long stretch of grass and foliage. Constant snapping his jaws at them, dreaming of the moment he had feathers all over the grass planes and a pigeon crunched between crocodile jaws.
But all of that happiness and fun and cuteness of that dog faded away. Clyde got old and the lovely dog turned into a grouchy dog as he entered his older years. He started to bark at people which he never did and his happiness dropped. He got slower when on walks, not as much effort now to fetch a stick or to fetch a ball.
The days went on, Clyde got older and his strength went down. He could not jump into the boot which he used to be able to do. But on the night my granny and granddad came over for dinner, we knew something was not right. I sat with him in the porch hugging him and comforting him he calmed down.
When my granny and granddad got home, he finished his pain and struggle. He slept and drifted away in his sleep, making peace with himself, so subtle and peaceful.
My Uncle Mark
My Uncle Mark liked bugs and beetles.
I too like bugs and beetles.
I wish he could see my collection.
My Uncle Mark played clarinet.
I love to play this too.
I wish he knew I play his clarinet.
My Uncle Mark loved to climb.
I too like climbing cliffs,
But I never climbed with him.
My Uncle Mark is my mum’s big brother
He died
When she was twenty one.
When I am at my granny’s house
I remember my Uncle Mark
His memory is all around.
My Uncle Mark I only know
From other’s memories.
I never met my Uncle Mark.
I wish Uncle Mark knew me.
Ben
I miss my best friend Ben. He was tall with brown hair and always had a smile on his face. He always wore a tracksuit because he was a keen sportsman. He still runs as I have actually run the EMF with him within the past two years. That was the last time I saw him.
I loved his determination, fighting spirit and the fact that we had so much in common. The one thing I didn’t like was that whenever he came round to ours for tea, he would always steal the sausages. We loved going to the Figgate Park with our parents to play tig because it was our favourite game. The best memories I have of him are when we all went to Blinkbonnie for camping and he went off to the compost cubicle and came back only to face-plant in mud! SPLAT!
I also remember when we made a trap for our siblings by tying a rope hovering across the floor and a disco ball on the ceiling so when they looked up at the disco ball on the ceiling they would trip over the rope.
The other thing that I remember about him is that I was the boy in the gigantic turnip and I didn’t want to be so he very kindly volunteered to switch places in the play.
If I were to see him again I would say I’m looking forward to this weekend! Because we’re going camping with them and I can’t wait!
Wattie and the Little Brass Frog
The best memory I have of Wattie, my great granddad, is a little brass frog that he would try to give me every time I saw him. As soon as I was old enough to crawl, I would play with it. I would make it jump across people’s shoes and by the time I could walk, I could make it jump on their faces!
I know the frog isn’t a memory of Wattie, but it’s something of him that is really important to me. I have the frog in my room and I have done since Wattie passed away. The frog has a big grin on its face and when I see it, I remember that I am never actually alone.
Across the Sea and Back Again
SMACK! Another wave slams hard against the hull, sending them tumbling out of their bunks. She hears Christine vomit into her pillow. This ship is not a pretty sight. But it can’t be long now. Will he be there when she gets back? Is he well? The last letter she got was two months a-BLAM! Again, the sea sends the boat rocking viciously. Can’t be long now.
Mary was working as a shorthand typist, called over to Belgium during the war, her husband being the secretary for the University of Edinburgh. She was sent over to help forces there numerous times. She stayed for months at a time, each channel crossing a living nightmare.
“He was the most kind, brilliant man I’d ever met” she whispers, shaking slightly. “When he left the University, he was awarded a colour television as a parting gift, which was a huge thing back then” she laughs lightly, gesturing towards the iPad we have laying on the table. “It’s not much now, but we kept it for years”.
SPLASH ! Again and again and again, rocking the boat horribly, but it can’t be long now. She’ll see him again there.
John will be waiting for her.
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