‘Keep Granny’s Clock’
I was writing over 2000 words a day of my first novel ‘Silent Eden’, when lockdown hit. I was halfway through and aiming to have it finished by mid-April – then I didn’t feel well, and I didn’t feel I could continue writing, without knowing what sort of a world we were living in.
I’ve read a lot of dystopian fiction and Covid-19 flung us all into a new world where I wasn’t feeling very brave or creative.
Sunderland Culture put a call out for monologues to help the local acting community after theatres shut. I decided that this would be a good way to get my writing back on track and so enjoyed re-reading Alan Bennet and watching some monologues on-line.
I wrote two.
The first was a librarian, furious at the impending closure of her library who relocated most of the books to her home and the second was, 'Keep Granny's Clock'.
We’d been discussing wills, as you do, and it made me remember a flurry I was once in when I’d decided, the day before a big operation, that I had to have a will. Like my main character, I was convinced that I was going “to kark it”.
I had a monologue to write, I was in isolation, Zoom was new to me and it struck me that I could write about a woman on her own: technologically challenged and feeling under the weather. I didn’t want to mention Covid-19 and leave the virus imprinted on the script, but I did want to show how the virus seems to creep then accelerate. The being all alone and not wanting to “be a bother” I knew would ring true with lots of people.
She is a Baby Boomer –part of the generation who saw out the sixties in mini skirts while holding onto the bra straps of feminism. She wasn’t going to be a Granny with her chin tied headscarf and false teeth; she was widowed, but the mischief was in her just as strong as it had been when she was a teen singing along to ‘Everlasting Love’ in The Continental.
It was a fast piece to write. I knew her voice well. It’s that of the women I listened to growing up, and my own. Her expressions are how my family talk and how I speak to myself.
We had a Zoom talk, led by the award-winning writer Garry Lyons, and I was randomly allotted a loft as a place to write a scene.
My own Nana Ettie, who was a fantastic storyteller, had passed away in the autumn and my mam and aunty were going through the difficult process of clearing her house. I’m a recovering hoarder and my Nana too was known to have rolls of twenties stuffed all over the place. My paternal Granny Mary inspired the 20p money boxes and it was hers and my Grandad’s clock that I keep now. It struck me that a loft could be quite crammed with a lifetime of her and her husband’s treasures and tat that would all end up skipped and meaningless.
Living in lockdown hasn’t been easy, but it certainly made it clear what matters and what is most missed. Death seems to be hovering about a little too much, but it is humour and frequent handwashing that seem to be keeping a lot of us buoyant.
I had a big declutter during lockdown and had to stick lots of it up into the loft (before my shower, of course), reminding the children that it was just until the tip opens – admittedly this piece has quite an autobiographical edge.
Time has never been my strong point and it seemed fitting that as her time is running out it is the passing on of her mother’s keepsake to the next generation that matters. I often feel like I’m living through a memory at the moment. Being aware that there is a serious danger lurking has heightened my appreciation of lovely times and those important relationships; it is this that I poured into the monologue.
On the night that it aired we’d had a stressful few days searching for our beloved kitten, Bernie, who for the record, was a complete joy. The excitement at seeing the monologue for the first time totally disappeared when we learnt that he’d died. We buried him and came inside, shell-shocked with just five minutes before the monologue was premiered. I hadn’t the heart to watch it, but we did. Judi Earl took my character and brought her to life with such skill and emotion that we were amazingly able to laugh and, despite writing it as so, I was shocked by her “deathly” appearance in the final part.
It was surreal to be watching a piece I’d written months before about life, death and love while feeling totally distraught. I strangely found that my own art comforted me, and I hope it has done the same for those that have watched it.
There is a line in the monologue about leaving a bird’s nest alone in the loft. I wanted it to symbolise nature, the seasons and how nature will continue long after we are all gone. Judi Earl took this line and added so much more with a beautiful and meaningful look. I found that part quite special and that was all Judi, to whom I am very grateful.
I’m off now to write, ‘Silent Eden’ and to wash my hands for the fiftieth time. As my character would say I think that’s the lot, though if you haven’t seen ‘Keep Granny’s Clock’ yet then get it watched.