Poppy
By gletherby
- 17011 reads
It’s my birthday today.
I’m eight years old.
My name is Poppy Rogers.
I was born at twenty past nine in the morning on November the 11th. Mum says if I’d waited a little longer we’d have scored a hat-trick. I think that’s a funny thing to say.
Last year I had a party but this year I am going to a restaurant for a pizza instead. My friend Beth is coming with me. Mum is taking us but not coming in. I’m going to text her on my new mobile phone when we have finished our pudding. She says she’s going to go for a walk in the park to see the ducks. It’s raining so she’ll probably wear her old mac. Nan bought the phone for me as my birthday present and it’s got a whole five pounds worth of credit on it. I got some new shoes and a book from mum. I’m excited about going out. This place is too small for a party anyway. Mum and I live on our own in one room in a big house. I’ve never met my dad. We have a sink, a kettle and a microwave so we can make ourselves hot stuff to eat. My favourite is tomato cuppa-soup with bread. The other day we had tinned rice pudding which was nice too. Mum said that there was a whole box full at the food-bank. She hasn’t been eating much lately. I think she must be on a diet. We have to share a bathroom with three other lots of people which neither of us likes much. The boys in the room next door wee on the seat. We moved here just after Easter when the rent on our flat went up. Nan used to take care of me after school on the days that mum was at work but we live further away from her now. Mrs Barsar from the room across the corridor sometimes makes my tea. Mum says we are part of the hidden homeless. But we have a home, even if it’s not a very nice one, and everyone knows we live here so that doesn’t make any sense. Tomorrow we will probably go to church with nan to say a prayer for grandad. I’ve not met him either but mum says it’s not because he doesn’t want to see me but that’s he’s poorly and finds it difficult to be with people, even us. Nan doesn’t see him either and he is her husband. We don’t even know where he is. Grandad was in a war a lot of years ago and his ship was attacked. We learned about another war in school this week and wrote some poems about it. Mr Potts asked me to read mine out first. He said it was ‘fitting’ but I’m not sure what he meant by that. We made poppies out of red tissue paper, black wool and a safety pin. I wore mine all evening and asked mum why she didn’t have one. I was worried because when we walked home Beth’s mum said that everybody who loves our country and is patrotic – I think that was the word – wears one. Mum just snorted though and said that of course she loves the country and proves it when she pays her taxes, unlike some people. I don’t know what taxes have to do with anything.
Grown-ups are really weird.
NB: I posted a story last weekend - Remember, Remember … - that although stand alone, could be read as a sister piece to this: https://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/remember-remember
- Log in to post comments
Comments
I like this a lot. It really
I like this a lot. It really captures the childish innocence and acceptance. Well done.
- Log in to post comments
Great social commentary.
Great social commentary.
- Log in to post comments
Pick of the Day
This is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day! Please share/retweet if you like it
- Log in to post comments
Poppy
This is really well-crafted - gets the reader into the mind of an 8-year old who thinks how weird the world is - she just tells things how they are - we've all been there one way another where grown-ups say what is and expect young children to accept what they say without questions.
Cilla Shiels
- Log in to post comments
The voice is perfect and the
The voice is perfect and the story is heartbreaking - well done Gayle. Great pick!
- Log in to post comments
nicely done. grown-ups are
nicely done. grown-ups are weird. That's why I refuse to grow up.
- Log in to post comments
Agreed. I will be 36 next
Agreed. I will be 36 next week, which sounds like a grown up but there is no way I’m doing that.
- Log in to post comments
It’s a neauty, Gayle. I’ll
It’s a neauty, Gayle. I’ll have to check out your other stories.
Rich
- Log in to post comments
I agree with
I agree with Accidentallyexisting. She's 36, I'm 63 and I'm not doing that either.
Lovely piece of work.
- Log in to post comments
This is our story of the week
This is our story of the week, well done.
- Log in to post comments
Really enjoyed this Gayle.
Really enjoyed this Gayle. The child's voice makes it charming in some respects, but it's very hard hitting in others.
- Log in to post comments
This is our Story of the
This is our Story of the Month - Congratualtions!
- Log in to post comments
Poppy
What a brilliant piece of writing, I could really hear the little girl talking Gayle, nice one.
Cilla Shiels
- Log in to post comments
Poppy
What a brilliant piece of writing, I could really hear the little girl talking Gayle, nice one.
Cilla Shiels
- Log in to post comments
This was so absolutely
This was so absolutely believable in voice and story, heart wrenching in its projection of the world through the child's eyes. The insulation of youthful innocence protects her and yet it made me want to cry. Great commentary.
- Log in to post comments