Life, backwards

I’m still getting used to the nature and structure of blogging, in particular the way in which the page begins with my most recent post, so that if I refer back to an earlier post, you, the reader have to go looking back to see what it’s about (or be content not to know). Recent posts on trains, Skegness etc brought this to mind.

A blog is a conversation, but also a story. Do you start at the end or the beginning? Reminds me of Sarah Waters’ The Night Watch. I remember when I began reading it, I thought the backwards telling of the story was forced, a bit of a device; but came to think it worked beautifully. Some years later story, setting and characters often come to my mind.

4 thoughts on “Life, backwards

  1. Yes, well, you are teaching me to follow blogs. Yours, for me, is currently a bit like reminiscence work with the elderly. Actually thats exactly what it is.

    So I’m reminiscing about being a waitress at Butlins, Skegness, 1961, the staff corralled behind high fencing with a look-out tower to make sure we didn’t escape. Huge cheers in the dining room every time someone dropped a tray of plates. Which was often.

    Lovely people from a mining village, Chopwell, near Newcastle, on my station – the first time I had heard Geordie voices. Went there later and saw the giant slag heap where they scrambled collecting bits of coal.

    Ta ra, Pet.

    1. Somehow in my mind’s eye, I’ve conflated two places in your comment, so I see the slag heap right next to the tall, prison-camp-style fence and imagine helpful bystanders on top of the heap, throwing essential supplies down to you inmates. Or maybe just pieces of coal…

  2. Thinking back to slag heaps just makes my mind boggle. Come to mind whenever people are saying wind farms are too ugly and spoil the landscape – and I think of Aberfan (and Chernobyl) and wonder what sort of ugly people want. Not that I want to start a discussion on wind farms, however…. I don’t!

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