I live in a cottage that was the epicentre for Swindon’s cobblers, back in the days. My father used to repair our shoes when we were kids so I had hopes that the cottage would have the sweet smell of leather and stitching and polish and that I may even hear the haunted sound of tack hammer on the last, but there was no such luck.
However, when I tell guests about the cottage’s history I can, in my head, visualise a cobbler, Liam O’Connor, who lived in Mallow, in County Cork, where my uncle was the blacksmith. Smells and sight and sounds still pervade my senses.
In my last book, I wrote a poem about the Mallow cobbler and about my uncle the blacksmith and the blind fly-maker, and my lovely crazy aunt, all legacies of the long ago. Later I went back and made a Poetry Video. You can see it on https://vimeo.com/181692488. The video ends with the lilting sing-song accent of that wonderful cobbler.
Why am I telling you this?
Whether you’re a poet or not, you still have your senses and memory, if you’re lucky. Go down to the library or search the Internet for a poem you can relate to, maybe something from school days. Then ramble into Swindon and the environs and make a Poetry Video. It’s easy enough with a smartphone.
You can overlay your voice reciting the poem after you edit the video. What a surprise that will be on Christmas Day when you WhatsApp your family and friends, the near and those farther away than normal.
First published in Swindon Link