I started the final week of Poem for Suffolk workshops with a visit to a Primary School in Carlton Colville, the rural village where I grew up. Although Grove Primary wasn't there when I was a kid - that's in 'new' Carlton, not the 'old' Carlton where I came from. The picture above is of Mr Farrell's class in 1976 from 'old' Carlton Primary. It closed a few years back during the reorganisation in the county that saw all the Middle Schools close - and then briefly became the controversial Beccles Free School. It's empty again now...
The population of the place in 1971, just after I was born, was nearly 2,500. Since then more than 1,000 homes have been built on Carlton Park - the fields that sat between the village and Oulton Broad. The population in 2011 had grown to 8,200. The strange thing is that the old side and new side were never joined - the little twisty side road that was already there (that ran through the fields where the new houses were built and was the 'short cut' to the Doctor's surgery) was blocked to traffic. Because they didn't want all the new residents to use that road as short cut. Although my 79 year old mother still uses it to get to the Co-op on her bike every Saturday.
So on a bright Monday morning in June I was interested to see if the Year 5/6 students were aware of the new Carlton/old Carlton divide. And of course, they were'nt. They just saw the Carlton where they lived and went to school as one place. It's only us oldies from the old side who still see the difference.
What I wasn't expecting was to bump into someone in Grove Primary who I went to school with. Clare was the Teaching Assistant and I recognised her immediately (one of my few remaining super powers is be able to recognise faces of everyone I ever met between 1969-2000 - it's only the last 15 years that are fuzzy). So there was at least someone there who knew what I was talking about and nodded and gave me an understanding smile whenever I mentioned 'old' Carlton and places like Mr Plummer's Shop and the old Primary School where Mr Farrell always wore his bottle green cordoroy jacket. Not even Bluebell Wood - that rested on the 'border' between old and new Carlton - is 1970s-style scary any more. It's been thinned out and replanted and there's even bluebells and schools' visits. Actually it sounds a much nicer place. And Clare always did have a sweet smile.
The workshop weeks have run across the seasons - one week each in Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer. Jodie's refreshing poem brings out the colours of June and I love the surprise ending - I wasn't expecting her or the poem to end up there!
SUMMER
Slimey snails slither through the crumbling soil, bumpy pavements twirl through small alleyways, white cars speed through one way streets, blue sky hides behind paper-white clouds, excitedly the bell shakes, a loud roars echoes out the building. Ruby red poppies dance through the emerald glass, ivory bikes race down hills, twigs crunch as they go past, blue waves climb up on to the grey rocks, the velvet red seats swallow you up as the film flickers on the big screen. Jodie, Year 5/6, Grove Primary School
