Candi Staton, the Sea and Me

Cherry

By Turlough

Sat, 27 Jul 2024
  • 1257 reads
22 comments
 

Candi Staton, the Sea and Me

 

Denis was going to Birmingham to study economics

Tommy was going to Derry to shoot revolting Cath'lics

Sue was going to push her pram daily to the caff

Jean was going to hospital to train to radiograph

And I was going to work on ships as deck cadet riff raff

Ten pence wakes a silent juke box

Peter Frampton wants me to show him the way

 

Will there be deadly scorpions crawling in your bed?

Will there be tarry pigtails swinging from your head?

Will there be rum and bum, and the bosun’s lash?

Will there be pirates’ chests of ancient foreign cash?

Will there be pills and balms to sooth your tropical rash?

Another two bob in the record machine

Rod Stewart’s sailing, stormy waters and all

 

Will you miss the nights in the pub with the gang?

Will you send me a postcard from Ujung Pandang?

Will you be sad to leave us, or maybe distraught?

Will you be having a girl in every port?

Will you be thinking of me, now and then, just a thought?

A shiny coin drops and vinyl crackles

Van Morrison pleads baby please don’t go

 

Was I bleeding inside with nerves torn and tattered?

Was I turning my back on all that mattered?

Was I wrong to go crossing those great oceans blue?

Was I wrong to be thinking I’d like the ship’s crew?

Was I wrong to be leaving such dear folks that I knew?

Then a rupee jangled in my head

And Candi sang young hearts run free

 

Image:

Navigating Officer Cadet, Turlough Ó Maoláin.

 

Certificate 15
Poem
Poetry in Commotion
Humour
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Fate can take many twists and turns, but in the end taking the plunge into life's great adventures is worth all the trepidation.

That third stanza reminds me of a sailor I once knew, he had a girl in every port and spent most of his money in the bars and clubs of all the foreign places he visited. I bet you have many stories to tell from that time.

This poem is yet another great example of your wonderful and amusing poetry Turlough.

Thank you for sharing.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Turlough on

That part of my life was quite eventful Jenny, but I suppose all the other parts were too. I have a fair old list of things to write about.

Many many thanks for reading and commenting. It's always greatly appreciated.

Turlough

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

Good old Peter Frampton, always there at decisive life moments. I wonder what people do in pubs without jukeboxes? They were very important things! Thanks for this little trip back into your youth Turlough. did you have the endless summer up there too in 1976?

 

Submitted by Turlough on

People look at menus and their phones rather than lists of music when they're in pubs these days. One that still has a jukebox is one to treasure.

We did indeed have that endless summer. It was the perfect time for leaving school, having two months off and then running away to sea. 

Many thanks for the cherries.

Turlough

Submitted by celticman on

not only  did  you run free, who let the dogs in? Turlough, Turlough, Turlough. Who let the dogs in...?

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Well now, there's a question CM. It took a joint effort from Glasgow College of Nautical Studies and Scottish Ship Management Limited of 40 Buchanan Street, Glasgow to let us in.

Turlough

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

I wonder what your thoughts would have been if one of your friends was going off to sea? Did you ever see them again? Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Turlough on

I've wondered about that myself in the past, Rhiannon. I probably would have wanted to go to sea with them. I've always been a bit addicted to travel and still become irrationally envious when people I know are going somewhere that I've never been. But from my own experience I would never recommend a sea-going career. There are much better ways to see the world. 

Writing this poem brought back memories of when I was packing up all my stuff to move from England to Bulgaria in 2016. I didn't realise it at the time but looking back at both departures there were similar emotional feelings going on. The big difference was being able to keep in contact via the internet from Bulgaria. There wasn't a hint of that when I was at sea. We'd usually get airmail letters from home when we arrived in a port but that could involve a wait of anything up to eight weeks, depending on the passage.

I did see most of these friends when I was home on leave but each time there'd be fewer meet ups and we'd have less and less in common to talk about. I found them all a bit immature. My time spent roughing it on merchant navy ships had a 'short sharp shock' element to it which I think made me grow up a bit quicker than the people I'd been at school with.

Turlough

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Interesting. The work at sea was probably very physically demanding, which can be very maturing for lads, as not so many jobs are so physical these days. Yes, communication was so different in those days, even across to the States. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Turlough on

The work was indeed physically demanding with a high level of responsibility thrust on me at times when I had little or no experience of what was expected of me.

But on those ships I lived and worked with some of the most awful people I have ever met. Hard men with some terrible problems who revelled in all those things that are associated with merchant seafarers. So it was mentally demanding too. 

Turlough

Submitted by marandina on

"Will you miss the nights in the pub with the gang?

Will you send me a postcard from Ujung Pandang?"

There's a wistful feel to this, Turlough.

It's like a stream of conscious style that's also reflective looking back on times gone by. Always interesting to read more about your life and times.

And what a photo that is!

You may be closing in on enough material for an autobiography soon. [Suggested title: "From Elland Road to Iran and Other Places" It could work, y'know..]

 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

On my first ship I really did go to Ujung Pandang, a place that I'd never heard of until we were a couple of days away from it. It's a city on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi and is better known these days as Makassar, which could easily be confused with an antimakassar, the likes of which my Nan used to put on the backs of her armchairs.

The photograph is of eighteen-year-old me reluctantly posing in the uniform of a Navigating Officer Cadet. I still have the hat which still doesn't fit very well. The jacket and hair disappeared a long time ago.

I'm really, really grateful for the interest you show in what I write and for your words of encouragement. I think more and more about that autobiography. I have piles of papers and embryonic notes that are as disorganised as the life itself has been, so that might make it a bit easier.

Many thanks to you Paul.

Turlough

Submitted by seashore on

How long were you at sea Terry?
Your choice was obviously right for you at the time. Really good read as always, but how did you get away with all that hair beneath the cap??

Submitted by Turlough on

I was a merchant seafarer for three years and worked on three different ships Coral.

I worked for a scruffy shipping company nicknamed Glasgow Greeks by all the others but officially called Scottish Ship Management Limited (a merger between the very old Lyle and Hogarth shipping lines) so hardly anybody ever wore a uniform. It wasn't the shipping company but the Department of Trade and Industry that insisted we had uniforms. My hair grew significantly longer than that while I was at sea. It still seems strange to me that I had to get a lot of it cut off when I went to work for the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food in Leeds.

Those ships were floating hippy communes, partly populated by alcoholics, psychopaths and sex offenders. So three years was enough for mild-mannered me.

Tx

Turlough

Submitted by D G Moody on

I've enjoyed the poem, and just as much the conversations following, and I got in late to comment on the long hair - but sure a handsome fella! I was saved from the Merchant Navy by my parents taking us to Australia (I'd of gone in via the training of yonkers). Still, I met enough psychos in the outback! Great poem Turlough - and yes, they don't write good songs any more!

Dougie Moody

Submitted by Turlough on

It was being in the Merchant Navy that took me to Australia on a number of occasions. Perth and Sydney were interesting cities but the small grain terminal ports in the 'rusty nail' country of the Spencer Gulf were much more welcoming places. Nearly every bar had a 'No shirt, no shoes, no beer!' sign on the door. This was all in the late 1970s so I expect it's all changed significantly since then.

Thanks very much Dougie, for all the usual reasons.

Turlough

Submitted by D G Moody on

It was my dad getting a job on the Kalgoorlie Goldfields that got us out to W.A. And I did some journeys back and forth beween Perth and the Eastern States - it's pretty bleak until past Port Augusta then improves down to Adelaide - a very nice city. I've still got dual citizenship but doubt if I'll ever visit again. Good to read your poems - keep them coming sport.

 

 

Dougie Moody

Submitted by Turlough on

No worries Bruce.

laugh

Turlough

Submitted by Di_Hard on

It sounds very grim, specially when so young. Though, it must have given you the confidence to handle any situation on your travels later. And all your experiences, good and bad, are woven into this fabulous word-carpet you spread out a bit more with each post. I would be interested (from the point of view of one who crumples into a panic attack on the slightest provocation) to read more of how you got through the time on the boats, the difficult characters and how you survived?

 

Submitted by Turlough on

It wasn't all grim Di. I'm glad I did it but I'm also glad that I stopped when I did. Though in hindsight it was much harder readjusting to a life back on land than it had been to adjusting to a life on the ocean wave in the first place. I've got more interesting stuff stored up in my head from those three years at sea than I have from any other period of the working life that followed. One of my jobs soon after leaving the merchant navy was as a trainee manager for Sainsbury's in North London and that was all grim... every single second of it.

I have three or four half written stories about the seafaring days. My cunning plan is to finish them and start a few more when the winter weather comes. I lose the inclination to write during the lighther months as outside is such a nice place to be.

Turlough

Submitted by Di_Hard on

Looking forward to those :0) POURING rain here, you would have your autobiography done in a jiffy!

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Ha ha! 

I've lived over there and society was so insistent that I went out to work each day that I barely had the time to even write a note for the milkman.

laugh

Turlough