Pilgrim Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n The Travellers are back. Each spring they return to a small corner of Birkrigg, usually about five to six caravans and trailers, a couple of flat-bed lorries. They park just below the farm, near top sea woods, with a view stretching out across the Bay.<\/p>\n Last year I met an elderly woman and a young man, her grandson? They were walking along the beach. I\u2019m sure they were from the camp on the common. She was small and had bright eyes, very alive looking, humorous. With her thick white stockings and men\u2019s carpet slippers she reminded me of my Nana, she wore men\u2019s slippers, too. This lady had a dog with her, a Yorkie, who yapped loudly at Roy. \u201cWe call him Napoleon, on account of his size, but he\u2019ll take on anything!\u201d Her grandson smiled, such affection in that smile. He held her elbow, she leaned on him a little. <\/p>\n \u201cFine looking dog you have. What\u2019s he called?\u201d Roy. \u201cRoy, eh, King Roy!\u201d We smiled and she and her grandson went and sat on a bench. I turned round; saw her pointing with her stick across the Bay to Pen-y-Ghent.<\/p>\n They stay on Birkrigg till someone turfs them off. Used to have a fair up at the Ghyll till the area was tidied up and raised slate flower beds were added to the car park \u2013 \u201cto spruce it up\u201d \u2013 didn\u2019t realise tho, that it was impossible to get the fair\u2019s dodgems and trucks, vans and trailers on the Ghyll car park. My sister had her fortune told once, at the fair \u201cDon\u2019t tell mam!\u201d while the tune \u201cDizzy, mah head is spinnin\u2019, like the world will ne-e-ver end,\u201d blared out from the tinny speakers as someone on the dodgem car turned yellow and vomited.<\/p>\n The Romany children would come to our school for a few weeks, maybe longer, I recall David coming to school barefoot, smiling sheepishly, dark brown hair, curly, tanned face, an ear ring in one ear and a girl \u2013 what WAS her name? \u2013 beautifully dressed in frills and lace, long hair ringletted, very shy girl. I loved her clothes, and her hair. Nana would ringlet my hair, too, wrap strands of hair in strips of old cotton, torn from worn out dresses. For the boys in the family she\u2019d spit on her forefinger and thumb and twist a few hairs into a coiff\/quiff. \u201cThere!\u201d she\u2019d say and the boys\u2019d step back, turn their heads to one side, like sulky calves.<\/p>\n \u201cVeeO-let VeeO-let, my mother\u2019s pet, with her hair in a PLET and her pinny all WET! VEE O LET!\u201d <\/p>\n A skipping rope song mam would chant as we danced around the kitchen. <\/p>\n Now the larks are back on Birkrigg, spiralling the air with song and spring as new coils of bracken unfurl their own green tune.<\/p>\n \tGeraldine Green from Salt Road, Indigo Dreams Publishers
\n\t(2013)<\/p>\n