tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post2233051904763848966..comments2024-03-18T10:29:46.055+00:00Comments on Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff: The Ups and Downs of ShelterKen Armstronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-25240285925120003532015-01-04T14:06:00.183+00:002015-01-04T14:06:00.183+00:00The last time I saw my best friend—or maybe the ti...The last time I saw my best friend—or maybe the time before that (some time close to what was to be the day our friendship petered out)—he took me into the back garden of his hew house in Troon and showed me the three trees in his back garden and they weren’t three weedy-looking saplings; they weren’t redwoods either but they were three dirty great big trees. Three. Did I say there were three? He had three trees in his back garden and a second-to-top-of-the-line BMW out the front; there was a reason he hadn’t gone for the top-of-the-line BMW and I forget what it was but it was important that I knew he’d had the choice. I know he’s still living there—I looked him up on Facebook a couple of years back (for some reason it never occurred to me to do that any sooner)—and I suppose the trees are still there only now he has a yacht as well as—one supposes—a more up-to-date BMW. <br /><br />Carrie and I used to have a tree in our front garden. No idea what kind it was—not really very good when it comes to trees that aren’t pines or redwoods—but one of our neighbours cut it down last summer which was nice of them because it was getting a bit tall and one of its branches used to rattle our bathroom window which could be a bit creepy at times. I don’t miss it. I had no emotional attachment to it whatsoever.<br /><br />When I was a kid we didn’t have any trees in our back garden. Privets and rose bushes and that was about it. For the first few years you could see across the road and it was just an empty field and then the billboards arrived which were great to play on although I seemed to be the only kid who did and I never really understood why. When one of our clothes poles broke I appropriated it, strapped it to the supports at the back of the billboards and did exercises on it until one day I slipped and ended up hanging by my ankle until I could attract my next-door neighbour’s attention who freed me and then Dad cut down the clothes pole and that was that. The last time I looked the Council’d replaced the billboards and they didn’t look nearly as kid-friendly as the ones from my childhood. I imagine most of our neighbours considered them an eyesore but they did afford us some privacy I suppose.<br /><br />When I look out of my kitchen window nowadays all I see are the flats opposite. For the first few eight or nine years I never took much interest in them but over the last couple of years I’ve got so I actually recognise some of the people. Not sure why I’ve just started to notice them. There’s a young family who’ve just has a wee girl. I suppose she’s about three now and just loves puddles. I’d forgotten how much joy a kid is capable of wringing out of the daftest of things. <br /><br />I don’t look up much except when I have to go out, to see what the likelihood of rain is. And I never go out after dark. Christ knows the last time I looked up and saw a starry night, the kind of starry nights I remember from my childhood. I was never particularly interested in astronomy <i>per se</i> but there was something about seeing a sky full of stars that pleased me and I would like to hope it could still. The joy of puddles has passed me by however.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.com