Since the dawn of civilization, oral storytelling has been a primary method for transmitting history, cultural practices, moral lessons, and entertaining tales. Stories make up a patchwork quilt of our lives both as a species and as individuals.
Storytelling for me
I was taught to love stories from a young age.
Every Friday growing up, me and Holly would get the money from either my mum or Sharon to walk down to the newsagent to get the Bunty comic they kept on pre-order. If we were lucky, we would get 10 pence extra for a 10-pence mix. The woman behind the counter must have felt sorry for us because we would take bulging bags of sweets to the counter and claim there were only 10 inside.
The next day it would be time to read The Bunty, a comic my mum had read as a girl. The Four Marys was her favourite childhood story and so we would always start with that one right at the back. The four girls were in a private all-girls school, and they were all called Mary. Each of them was different and had their own adventures each week. There was also a nearby all-boys school which would be included from time to time.
Mum would read the Four Marys to me long after I could read them for myself.
Come Sunday night, I would shout across the landing, “Tell me a Four Marys”, and from Sunday to Thursday, we would take turns to make up our own Four Marys stories. This tradition went on into adulthood where the stories got sillier and more surreal. That tradition is certainly part of where my love for stories came from. Things like comics, books and TV shows weren’t readily available; you had to wait a week or more for the next instalment. As a result, you filled the gaps with your imagination and created your own entertainment. Long after my mum’s voice was silenced, I still think about those characters and the bond we shared.
James Joyce said, “all memory is imagination.” (Pomes Penyeach)
My mum also wrote stories for her grandchildren and about people she knew growing up. It is by looking back at them that she still talks to me even though she passed almost twenty years ago.
Lauren’s Magic Puppet”
By
Sue Sefton
It was a hot sunny day and Lauren was at the sea-side. She had been playing on the beach and had bought a ‘Swan Lake’ Barbie at the toy shop.
She wanted to play with her new doll back at the seaside house but her nan wanted to look in another shop.
The man who owned the shop was sitting outside in a deckchair, sunbathing. He smiled at Lauren and said to her nan, “Go on in and look around if you want.”
They walked in and the shop seemed dark after being outside in the bright sunshine. Lauren had never seen a shop like it. “It’s like a magic shop,” she whispered to her nan. She laughed and told her, “No, it’s an antique shop.” Lauren had never heard that word before.
“What’s antique?” she asked.
Her nan explained that it meant that the things in the shop were old, some, a hundred years old.
Lauren’s nan showed her, bald-headed dolls, a black doll in a blue dress, Robertson’s Gollies and old-fashioned buckets and spades. But the best thing Lauren saw in the shop were the Pellam puppets hanging up at the side of the counter near the door.
“How do they work?” she asked, staring at them with wide eyes.
At that moment, the man who owned the shop came in. He laughed at the excited little girl and asked which puppet she would like to look at.
“The little girl one,” replied Lauren. The nurse puppet was hanging up next to the clown one.
The man lifted it down and patiently showed Lauren how the strings moved her arms, legs, body and head. She was completely fascinated and wanted to take the puppet home. Her nan stood by watching too, but she saw the price tag of £42 tied to the puppet and she knew it cost too much money.
She steered Lauren towards the door whilst chatting, saying she bet the clown was called Coco. When asked if she could have one she told Lauren, “Maybe another day” and off they went back to the seaside house.
Back at the shop, the man decided to close early because it was too hot for working. When the door was locked, it was then that it happened. The toys came to life! Lauren was right, it was a magic shop.
The puppets were first to jump down and sit on the counter. The little nurse puppet, whose name was Griselda, began crying.
“What’s the matter?” asked the clown.
Between sobs, she said, “It’s not fair, I wanted that little girl called Lauren to buy me today. I’m so sad; I’m fed up of being stuck in this shop. I want someone to play with.”
The clown put his arm around her shoulder and said, “I’m fed up too; people think I’m a clown but I’m not, I’m ‘Pepé The Peirot,’ but they don’t know I’m special. The lady called me ‘Coco the Clown, she didn’t know I’m not just an ordinary clown. I wish somebody who knows who I am would buy me.”
Just then, the black doll who was called Jessica came to sit with them. She was sad too. “I’ve been here the longest,” she said. “I’ve been here for three years and I hate this old dress I have to wear. When I was new I had a pink rosebud dress with a matching brimmed bonnet and white socks and shoes. Just look at me now.” She cried, putting her arm around Griselda the nurse.
Now all three of them were sitting on the counter crying, and before very long they were joined by the two bald-headed dolls. “Well, look at us,” they groaned. “Nobody wants us; we can’t do anything but sit on the shelf. They don’t know we are porcelain dolls made in Germany. New dolls have curly hair and hair that grows.”
Everybody was sad today but usually at night the Robertson’s Golly Band, who lived in the glass display case in the corner, came out and played a cheerful tune for everyone to dance to.
The golly with the trumpet said,” I know what it is, why nobody buys us, we cost £15 each and children haven’t enough pocket money.”
“Well,” said Jessica, "I cost £50, nobody will ever buy me.”
All the toys agreed that this was the problem and they all went to bed that night feeling sad and there they stayed on their shelves all summer.
That was to say until the last week of the season. On the last Saturday before they closed the shop for the winter, the man who owned the shop put up a notice: ‘End Of Season Sale, Everything Half Price’.
That Saturday was a lucky day for Griselda the nurse puppet. Lauren‘s nan was visiting the seaside just for the day. She saw the notice and thought to herself, Oh I hope he hasn’t sold the puppet.
The man smiled when she walked in and he went to lift Griselda down. He remembered her and said, “I bet this is for Lauren.”
It was.
The other toys had a lucky day too, a lady doll collector bought Jessica and the other two dolls promising to dress them properly and look after them. Pepé the Peirot had been bought by a man who recognised who he was because he had already got his partner, a girl Peirot. The glass case in the corner was empty because all the Golly Band had been bought which meant they could still play music together.
On Christmas Day at Lauren’s house, the sack in the corner said ‘From Nannan’. Inside on top of the other parcels was Griselda.
Lauren just said mischievously but wisely, “I told you that shop was magic.”
Her nan just laughed.
I would love to hear about where your lobe of stories originated! Please let me know in the comments!
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