Electricity by Angus Peter Campbell sampler

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angus peter campbell always open and the kettle forever on the boil. There was a small cave down by the shore that was our first castle. Duncan and Fearchar helped us pull an old cupboard door down to the castle, and if anyone wanted to enter they had to knock three times on the door with this special white stone before they were allowed in. Inside, we had sticks and a kettle and a cupboard and shelves and everything where we held big feasts. In the summer when the days were long and there was hardly any night we lit a fire and roasted marshmallows on sticks and then ran and danced until the sun shone orange. I’m writing with a pencil because that’s how I learned to write at school, and I know that if I make a mistake I can rub it out and start again. We used to rub things out with the heel of the white loaf, but these days I use Jamieson’s round erasers. I get them from Simpson’s round the corner. Thing is, with the loaf you could still see the smudge, as if writing and sums had as much to do with rubbing out as putting in! Same with everything. Mam was forever washing things and Dad always clearing fields so that the potatoes would grow. It was as if nothing could happen without something else being removed. When Niall Cuagach divined for water he never knew where the exact spot was, or whether it was a trickle or a well. We watched him following his stick ever so carefully and then came that remarkable moment when the twig twitched, and there it was. Water. It was as if the stick was alive in his hands. He gave us the stick to try, but though we waved it about everywhere we never found water. It only ever worked for him. The first time Mam gave me a pencil when I was about two or three she cupped her hand round mine and made this amazing shape which she said was an ‘a’, and then she cupped my hand and made a different shape and said ‘And that’s a capital A’. It was like the difference between a lamb and a sheep, I thought. I got it right first time and didn’t even have to rub it out and that’s been my aim all my life. 16
electricity The birds are singing outside. They are always at their best at this time, first thing in the morning, as if every new dawn is a surprise to them, needing a song. Goodness, the way Claudia my neighbour moans, as if it’s a trial being alive. I’m lucky, because I have trees in my garden, so all the birds gather there, summer and winter. They’ve grown since you last climbed them! I sleep well enough, though I wake early. But no matter how early, the goldfinches are always up before me. The gowdspinks. On spring and summer and autumn mornings they are in full song by six or seven, but even in winter, because I put seed out for them, there they are as soon as the sun rises. Maybe the sun himself rises when he hears their songs? I’ve had my breakfast. Today, fruit and yoghurt. And black decaffeinated Earl Grey. The one with the blue cornflower blossoms and bergamot you thought was a perfume the first time you were here! I add orchid petals. For the antioxidants, I tell myself! Though it’s really for the colour which matches that gorgeous Japanese pot you bought me from the charity shop. Oh, and did I tell you I bought a stove? The man installed it a while back, but it wasn’t working properly. Then he came back and fixed the flue. Blamed the flue of course, saying it was faulty! And you know what? The local garage down the road sells those bags of peat, and once the fire gets going good and proper with wood and a handful of coal I add the peat so that the fragrance of my childhood fills the air. Forgive an old woman adding her bit to global warming, my dear child! It’s a silver morning here. The sun is shining in through the kitchen window and the percolator is already bubbling. Wasn’t it lovely being outside on a clear and starry winter’s night? We might have been eaten by moths or frogs! Or been invaded by those starships you said you saw flying between the moon and the 17
Page 3: Angus Peter Campbell is from South
Page 6 and 7: First published 2023 isbn: 978-1-80
Page 9 and 10: Contents Acknowledgements 9 My Dear
Page 11 and 12: Acknowledgements My thanks to every
Page 13 and 14: My Dear Emily, I hope you’re well
Page 15: electricity arrived like lightning
Page 20 and 21: angus peter campbell horizon! And i

Electricity by Angus Peter Campbell sampler

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