{"id":4871,"date":"2013-07-11T09:00:44","date_gmt":"2013-07-11T09:00:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=4871"},"modified":"2013-06-30T11:55:11","modified_gmt":"2013-06-30T11:55:11","slug":"june-conlon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/june-conlon\/","title":{"rendered":"June Conlon"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>Early Days<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Squeezing my eyes tight shut. The feel of my hands in prayer.<br \/>\nNot being chosen.<br \/>\nCollecting bus tickets. Black print on white paper, serrated edges. A row of numbers.<br \/>\nIf they added up to 21 you gave them to someone you loved. Alan Briggs gave me<br \/>\none, he spoiled it by being fat, having a hole in his jersey, and smelling a bit.<br \/>\nGrazed knees. Lots of them.<br \/>\nPicking at scabs (and eating them, ditto up my nose).<br \/>\nWondering why grown ups believed in God but not fairies.<br \/>\nSkiddy knickers. Not mine.<br \/>\nNo knickers. Forgot.<br \/>\n&#8216;White Christmas&#8217; 1952.<br \/>\nMy first lie. Bing <a href=\"http:\/\/www.doxycycline-buy.com\">http:\/\/www.doxycycline-buy.com\/<\/a> Crosby is my uncle. Many more to follow.<br \/>\nFather Vetch. Don&#8217;t go there.<br \/>\nLoving Jesus. Hyacinths growing in the dark school cupboard.<br \/>\nMustard and Cress. Growing on blotting paper on the school window sill.<br \/>\nDropped it. Tears.<br \/>\n\u201cThey say that&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;\u201d. Who says?<br \/>\nFrog spawn in an enamel dish in the outside toilet.<br \/>\nStalking cat.<br \/>\nMassacre.<br \/>\nPutting pennies in small brown envelopes for African Missionaries.<br \/>\nBeing frightened because the King was dead. (not Elvis).<\/p>\n<p>Feeling so small, I might be trodden on.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>June Conlon<\/strong> has always written, but never before submitted. This comes to you as a result of her creative writing tutor\u2019s suggestion.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Early Days Squeezing my eyes tight shut. The feel of my hands in prayer. Not being chosen. Collecting bus tickets. Black print on white paper, serrated edges. A row of numbers. If they added up to 21 you gave them to someone you loved. Alan Briggs gave me one, he spoiled it by being fat, [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4871","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4871","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4871"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4871\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4873,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4871\/revisions\/4873"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4871"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4871"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4871"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}