Meanwhile, this is my grandma's house, which I was born in. It's a 2-up 2-down council house. But they were nice houses, very professionally built.
My poem the Singing Ringing Tree is about that house. In fact that tree which obscures most of the view is the Singing Ringing tree. It's eerie being able to walk around my childhood on the computer screen.
The Singing Ringing Tree
The silver birch in your garden
Singing and ringing in daylight
And you were tall enough to reach its leaves
The frog becomes a prince
The prince a bear
The waterfalls are frozen
Each human child must learn
Terror and grief
Men in the motorbike alleys
Turn the air blue
And you must pass amongst them
Women glower under peroxide
Witch of the northern moors
The snow-flecked child-betraying moors
Each human child must grow a wolf's claws
Evade the earth's mouth
Do not go to that cold waste
Where the tea leaves are, and the white daisies
It is not safe to be a girl, a frog, a flower
You must pass amongst those who devour
Shadows of strangers pass
Behind the curtains of that house
Although you have grown
The silver tree has grown much taller
And all its bells
Ring in the street light
Ex inferno gaudete
Homo lupus homini
ETA I just found a fan site for the Singing Ringing Tree (that link is to a summary of Part 3). Boy that program was peculiar.
(the baddy)does not want the little tree to sing in fairyland so he surrounds it in flames. Thinking that he has finally stopped her, he flies around laughing. The Princess braves the flames, walking through the fire to embrace the tree. The tree sings and rings. The flames die away and (the baddy) falls into a huge hole. The dried up valley becomes green.