Picture thanks to Ireland Genealogy Projects and Roots Web Ancestry
... in a poem is not as easy as it looks on TFE's 'oul bus. I think it might be one of them 'oul-fashioned wans dat dey used ta droive in da 70s & 80s (okay, meybe da 60s) in Dublin - see above.
I gave you all this line: 'I got down on my knees and smelled the brand new linoleum,' from a story by Edna O'Brien (another class act) in her short story collection The Pagan Place.
What you did with it was another matter entirely. Well fair play to you all, you got into it. I'm very impressed with the response - you all engaged with the line and took it your own varied and many ways - and the round up begins here:
Niamh has her Ear To The Ground
Rachel Fox is Flat Down
Emerging Writer is on the bus too
NanU's The Ineffable Scent of Linoleum
JoAnne's in The Kitchen
Don't Feed the Pixies has a quirky take in Out of Gas
TFE's has a Pilgrims Progress sort of moment amongst others
Peter Goulding's pulled out all the rhyming stops for ium
Bill gets technical Close to the Ground
DanaBug dishes the dirt on Willow ware and linoleum
Jeanne Iris is a Mom Interrupted
Poetikat uses her olfactory muscles
Enchanted Oak has a strongly coloured lino: The Red Floor
Pure Fiction breaks Virgin Territory
Padhraig lays it on us in Trackstopper
Colin looks at the roots of it all in Flax
and Watercats with a right kitchen sink drama,
Jessica Maybury talks straight about what you find on the lino
and Linoleum's Fresh Dreams from Chiccoreal
Swiss is better late than never with the process and scents of a Lino cut
I hope that's everyone now! As for the driver well...
The Mechanics of Movement
I got down on my knees and smelled the new linoleum,
adopted the cat stance, then threaded the needle
hand under each arm, slowly in turn, shoulder to floor.
Back to the cat stance, spine arched up and back to rest
and folded my legs with my bum in the bow crook
of my calves. All the while breathin, deeper and deeper.