I feel a poem coming on…
Skips seem to be punctuating the landscape in Ireland these days and the mere sight of them sets my mind racing.
For a couple of weeks, every single skip I looked into had at least two old-fashioned suitcases in them ~ you know the ones without wheels?
I longed to know where they had travelled and, of course, with whom.
I’ve only ever had one major dealing with a skip and that was when we were clearing out our late parent’s house. Practically everything that went into it carried memories of some description and it was only then that I truly realised how what can appear to be total rubbish can have very significant meaning for somebody somewhere.
Skips also make me think of an exercise I had to do as part of a course on writing poetry. The opening line was: If I had a skip I would throw away…
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