winter of discontent

Winter of Discontent


It was a bitterly cold time, 1949, coal was dear we had to
let the fire die out at night, killer frost lurked everywhere.
The harbour froze over and in the morning frost smoke
filled the town like a ghost seeking deadly vengeance.
In the morning there was partly dried blood on the knee
of my long underwear, mother said I had to wear them to
school as she didn’t have a spare once; my whole being
shock in repulsion. At school I took them off threw them
away…and it was unbearable cold without them on.

Mother scolded me for throwing good underwear away,
just for a drop of blood. I insisted on sleeping on the floor,
in the morning I had fever, doctor came, pneumonia; and
I was sent to hospital. When mother visited, she tried to
kiss me but I turned my face away, she looked hurt, but at
that moment I hated her for what she had done. When I came
back from hospital, the frost had eased and given way to
a shy spring, but I insisted on sleeping on the floor. I never
kissed mother again except when she lie dying, but when
I bent down to kiss her, on the forehead, she turned away