February 22, 2005
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p.s. be online friday night to answer you all.
SPOTLIGHT ON TIFFY WITHERINGTON.
Tiffy Witherington.
Tiffy, real name Taffy, (she’s Welsh) owns a small pub in Hoddesdon just north of London.
She was given the pub by her uncle as he considered she was the best person to run it. This broke off relations with most of the rest of her family, but she enjoys running the pub and is behind the bar most evenings and indeed most lunchtimes.
Tiffy has been twice married, both times to no-gooders. She has a daughter aged 23 and a son aged 26 who is in jail.
Like the beer she serves, she can be bitter or mild or full of honey. She is warm and friendly and laughs a lot, but deep inside her 46 year old body she is ridden with depression and she is slowly drinking herself to an early grave.
———–
Kindertotenlieder.
—————————
a swing that a child once played upon.
flowers that a child once picked for me.
i close the door to my garden and i cry.
and i stroke the cat that the child once loved.
—
Tiffy Witherington
—
“I want to be a star mummy”
_________________________
I went to visit
my son in jail.
A 233-mile round trip.
And for the whole hour
that I was there
He blamed me for everything.
Why do I bother
once a bloody month
to see such an ungrateful son
one that seems to hate me so?
As if it was I
who had raped that woman
and who had pulled that trigger
to kill the policeman.
All I did was
to bring him up
to love the world
and to believe in God.
He said once
that he wanted to be a star.
It makes me hate
looking upwards
upon a clear night.
—
Tiffy Witherington.
—
“Some Fell On Thorns”
———————————-
My eyes are not the flowers
Of Spring anymore.
It is cold.
My face is hid in powder
Of prolonged youth.
I long once more
For that whistle.
That leer…
Yet I once hated those men
Undressing each whispering flesh.
All icy lovers do now
Is talk of the past.
I look in vain
For that sudden movement
Of excitement
In their eyes,
When I sit, legs wide
Across to them.
Now it is a cough
An embarrassed look-away.
So I hitch down my dress
And stare out of the window.
It too, is old
And full of strange dust.
—
Tiffy Witherington.
—
Tiffy’s knocker Page: http://ff243.homestead.com/knocker~ns4.html
Tiffy’s Poems:
Picture “Tiffy’s pub”
Comments (51)
fascinating words, such as that whistle
peace
John
I like the beer metaphor for Tiffy’s character. Are the Welsh so very distinctive from the rest of the UK? I know that Richard Burton and Tom Jones and Ioan Gryffud (sp) were and are welsh. Just an ignorant query from someone who wishes she knew more of wales than those actors.
Many things seem too old and full of strange dust, oddly though strange dust can be quite interesting. Your characters are always amazing.
M.A.
Three comments in ten minutes!
kindertotenlieder is very sad. i can only image what someone would be feeling not having their baby to hold anymore… like an empty heart… only half full.
I feel old and dusty most days…and she sure seems to know how 45 and alone feels…
Please tell Tiffy that I want free drinks!
Anyway, hey Terry! To answer your question: no I haven’t stopped posting. I just haven’t had much of a poetic muse lately.
I look in vain
For that sudden movement
Of excitement
In their eyes . . . .
. . . . So I hitch down my dress
And stare out of the window.
Lately Tiffy, I too have felt much like this with regard to the
world around me, sort as if I am outside of it all and just
cannot relate to the suffering that humans choose to be
a part of and cannot live without. Maybe we are both in our
mid-life crisis?
Oh Lord of the Great Pineapple Blog Rings how do you write
well enough to make me believe?
Hi friend!!
You can tell the girls I was pissed when I couldn’t stand up without holding on to something!! They have the world on a string…I have it on pieces of furniture, forget the string.
Angels can be prickly, can’t they. Maybe yours is one of the fallen ones????
Greetings Terry.
I hope you are doing well.
I enjoyed reading this today.
Great bio on TiffyTaffy.
The peoms are very touching.
you have been busy and I am happy to read this from you today.
be well.
Some Fell on Thorns…wow My love
I love your mind..or should I say your
personas…I have missed you…not been
online much and I know I must give back to the people
that have stood by me here on xanga…
hope all is well with you sweetheart
i love them all…it’s been forever since i’ve been here! i missed it!
Sounds like Tiffy has had a rough go of it.
Poor Tiffy…I think she needs a hobby, or at the very least she needs to volunteer or something to get out of the rut and depression she is in; of course, then we wouldn’t have these wonderful bits of her life to read. Can a poet be truly happy and still be a poet?
“Some Fell On Thorns” – Every once in awhile a poem really strikes home, as this one does. Wow. Just, wow.
You have caught the essence of the mother’s heart so well…you have seen inside the soul of a parent who tries so damn hard but is blamed for the failures of the child…You know..you feel and Tiffy is out there for all of us women that have been there, done that or afraid it will happen! Genius you are!
Nancy
Greetings milord !!! Like Nanny, i definitely think you are a GENIUS!!!!! I love all three of your poems and the introduction of Tiffy. ‘I want to be a star mummy’ reminds me so much of what had happened in my family but i thank God that things are now better and my brother is a reformed man who no longer gets enticed by the seduction of drugs ! We were all mad at him at one point where he dared blamed my father for what had happened to me and it broke my heart when my father spoke for the first time how he felt for all of us. All he did was to bring us up and provide us with the best that he could ..guide us to where he can and it is up to us whether we will listen to him and hold on to his hand or take the risk of letting go and be charmed to what there is beyond the path that we chose.
I’ve always loved Tiffy’s poems the best. I guess it’s that female identification thing.
..you run like a Welshman
Tiffy another new identity? You’re interesting. I love those 2 very sad poems … the one about the Star Mommy and the one on thorns. “Icy lovers, strange dust …” Brilliant writes, really! Have a good week ahead.
Those are amazing pieces, though. Thanks for your comment on my site. I added you to protected, if you are interested.
The name Tiffy/Taffy. That should go down in history as memorable.
Wow…Tiffy has had a rough time of it, hasn’t she? It seems that she had lived a life thwarted. How terribly sad. It makes for lovely and poignant poetry, though.
Tiffy is very honest in her regrets Lord thank you she is one of my favorites magi
You are a myriad of colorful characters! Very poignant writings. Thank you for sharing Tiffy/Taffy.
Hope your pain has lessened, and that you are feeling so much better.
Love
das fande ich ganz schön.
they are all slightly embarassing poems which makes them so interesting. that what i think.
well i was wrong, the first one is not so embarassing as it is sad. in fact its not embarassing at all, just sad. i would ask you who the kid was, or why they are dead, but perhaps it is a poem and has no ironic meaning, or does it?
i love your poetry, “props yo”
lucy
“Flowers that once a child picked for me”. Terribly, sad and nostalgic.All so meaningful as usual. RITA
ouch.
hey, like Tiffy’s work this week.
Enjoyed stopping by your site. I have nothing that interesting on mine but mid-winter in MO and hobby farming don’t lend themselves to much of interest.
Poor Tiffy . She is a sensitive and desesperate woman . The poems reflect well the character especially the second .
Well done Terry
In friendship Michel
kindertotenlieder and ‘i want to be a star mummy’ are sort of sad. poor tiffy/taffy..i like that metaphor between her and beer <3
Tiffy is only second to Jacques for me. I like the tone you set with her…I can relate to it… Happy Friday, LordP!!! ~jacki
TIFFY WITHERINGTON is a genius.
I feel Tiffy’s life sliding by, but I wonder, does she? and if she does, does she even care?
Thank you for the comment. yes it was two poems.. and i like your poems as well. not really a particular i like best.
well hope u have a great day
crystal
Layers upon layers, I am fascinated. I think you caught the broken heart of a mother very well.
S2
I’m certainly not one to tell you what is right or wrong with being or not being a believer but I would challenge you to try another denomination that teaches and preaches straight from the Bible with no elaborations. I can’t imagine living and dying without hope of a better eternity. I will pray for you and that you can overcome this hurt of 50 yrs. ago.
Very touching poetry .I did enjoy it all Cheers marj
Ouch because I read and deeply felt the pain and hurt behind the words and I comisserated. I didn’t like the word “blocked” either, but didn’t come up with something else to change it yet…
“My face is hid in powder of prolonged youth”…
It is a mask, sometimes. I do not wear it, very often!
Thanks for posting this. I’d wondered what had become of Tiffy. Good poetry, hers.
RYC: I bet your cd collections are
how about record collections ?
I love the character development. Makes the poems much stronger.
My face is hid in powder
Of prolonged youth.
Good commentary of an attempt to remain ‘in the flesh’ One had just as well try to capture a cloud in a box. That which is flesh will return to dust, the spirit however could soar like an eagle.
You have such an interesting insight to women. I always worry that I come across as being bitter about life, and sometimes I guess I am.
Taffy goes by Tiffy because? She likes a good tiff? You make her seem very real. And you claim no empathy.
where are you MiLoer?
missing you..for you need to update?
((((HUGS))))
well I would not want to have a falling out Terry I only have a subscription to your Lordpineapple site I know you have one or two others…I have been negligent and I take responsibility for that…
I read the one about the woman who hitches up her skirt because the men cough in embarassment. Very effective. My favorite of these is the one about the son in jail. Wow. I really believe it! It’s interesting how you can so thoroughly imagine being these people. That’s really the sign of a great writer who can assume the personality of a main character or narrator. What a gift… I feel like my stuff has the same tone in it, the same narrator, the same concerns sometimes too. I’ve decided to quit the acting classes and see if this Spring I can get back into my writing. I miss it very much and the longer I don’t exercise the writing muscles the rustier I’ll get. Do you ever not write and notice that happening? Great work.
She sounds so sad, so used up…