{"id":984,"date":"2007-03-30T16:26:22","date_gmt":"2007-03-30T16:26:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=984"},"modified":"2007-03-30T16:26:22","modified_gmt":"2007-03-30T16:26:22","slug":"the-leeds-university-years-two-pieces-by-charles-christian","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/the-leeds-university-years-two-pieces-by-charles-christian\/","title":{"rendered":"The Leeds University Years – two pieces by Charles Christian"},"content":{"rendered":"

1972: So Long Marianne, So Long Rosalin<\/span>

Peering back from an old memory<\/span>
the face of a girl I once knew<\/span>
A girl whose existence<\/span>
had almost slipped from my mind<\/span>

Once we'd been close<\/span>
had studied together, partied together<\/span>
seen Leonard Cohen together<\/span>
But always as friends \u2013 never lovers<\/span>

You claimed you had a boyfriend<\/span>
(a hotshot in some city<\/span>
with a big car and even bigger career) <\/span>
that none of us ever saw or met<\/span>

Your trip to my home<\/span>
all those years later<\/span>
(I was away, you took tea with my mother)<\/span>
made no sense \u2013 until now<\/span>

If only you hadn't<\/span>
always tried to impress<\/span>
if only \u2013 just once <\/span>
you'd dropped your facade<\/span>

If only \u2013 if only I'd been bolder<\/span>
and challenged your silly games<\/span>
But you played hard to get<\/span>
so I got another<\/span>

On such whims and foibles<\/span>
are destinies changed<\/span>
future histories recast<\/span>
and a dynasty ended before it began<\/span>

I can still recall the way Cohen performed that night<\/span>
the upbeat arrangement he used<\/span>
when he sang So long, Marianne<\/span><\/span>
…and how you looked, when you smiled<\/span>

<\/font>
<\/font><\/p>\n

– – – – – – – – –<\/span><\/font>
<\/div>\n

 <\/span><\/font>

Do they still sit and daydream on the Parkinson Steps?<\/span>

Past the late night Warsaw Stores at the end of the road<\/span>
across the street from the Sikh temple by the traffic lights<\/span>
did the sign in that cafe really say Only one fork per plate<\/span> ?<\/span>
Later, sitting round the kitchen fireplace<\/span>

at the house we shared on the Chapeltown Road <\/span>
we'd make French toast, drink cheap black coffee <\/span>
and watch unwanted lecture notes burn in the open grate<\/span>
as we'd talk long into the night<\/span>

about back-to-backs, Hunslett legs and the Quarry Hill flats.<\/span>
You were reading medicine, I was studying politics<\/span>
but that was the day before yesterday \u2013 half a lifetime ago<\/span>
when we were still so young and cool and wild and free.<\/span>

We've long since fallen from each other's radar screens<\/span>
you never found that cure for cancer, I never changed the world.<\/span>
It's been over thirty years since I last made French toast<\/span>
\u2013 and I don't take my coffee black anymore.<\/span>


\u2022 Charles Christian is the editor of IS&T and usually far too modest to submit his own work. The latter Parkson piece was written in 2004 and won 1st prize in a Ver Poets competition in 2005. We just mention the dates as the piece is currently the subject of a plagarism dispute, having been ripped off by another writer whose – let's be charitable – homage<\/span> begins…<\/span>

Past the late night Polish emigrant-run newsagents at the end of the road<\/span>

\nacross the street from the ancient cathedral…<\/span>

\ndid the sign in that cafe really say it was cheaper to get take-away<\/span>?<\/span>

We'll keep you posted on the outcome.<\/span><\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

1972: So Long Marianne, So Long RosalinPeering back from an old memorythe face of a girl I once knewA girl whose existencehad almost slipped from my mindOnce we'd been closehad studied together, partied togetherseen Leonard Cohen togetherBut always as friends \u2013 never loversYou claimed you had a boyfriend(a hotshot in some citywith a big car […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"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-984","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/984","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\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=984"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/984\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=984"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=984"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=984"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}