In this episode we explore the ways in which the new town development worked alongside the natural world with, for example, tree planting and daffodil days built into the planning. We hear about the value of nature reserves and parks such as James Steel Park and the Wetlands Centre as well as the ongoing appeal of allotments and 'council gardens'. Sixty years on, Washington has a legacy of woodlands and wildlife such as otters and kingfishers. As Nasim Rebecca Asl's poem portrays there's a darker side to the heritage on which the new town was built.
Mesothelioma is growing in my grandpa’s greenhouse
Nasim Rebecca Asl
Magnesia and some asbestos products were manufactured for decades at Washington Chemical Works. Hundreds died from illnesses caused by the material.
We plant seeds together in your greenhouse on a Monday after school.
Your weathered hands unwrap germinated sprouts
from kitchen roll, pointing out their tiny roots to me.
They’re new. All we can do is bury these treasures
in black plastic pots and water the soil with our sweat. Wait.
One Tuesday we transplant the shoots
to a flower patch right by the fence.
My tiny hands wear yours like gardening gloves
as you guide the plants from box to ground.
We give them space to breathe.
After tea, your fingers envelop mine
and help me control my sprawling letters,
show me how to build words, how to read.
We don’t yet know what’s taken root in you -
there’s a shadow blossoming in the greenhouse
of your body, its cancerous petals unfurling in your lungs.
We water. We laugh. We monitor.
The saplings shoot up. It’s Wednesday when we bind
their fragile spines to bamboo poles,
and twine their bodies to the stakes. They can’t yet
bear their own weight, but I hope they grow
in your image. One small flower, one large support:
our shadows match theirs.
On Thursday, we’re side by side outside
admiring the sunflowers as they swivel
with the earth to find their god.
They’ve outgrown me. I look up to both of you.
You tell me they seek the sun but I think
they’re always searching for your face.
Grandma calls us in for tea. She wipes mud
from my knees, the way she’d brush powder
from your overalls when you came home
from the chemical works. Her tummy rumbles.
I turn to ask you a question, but you’re doubled over,
clawing for breath.
It’s Friday. You’re gone.
The flowers have rotted too, returned to mulch
with you. I don’t know who uprooted them in the end.
Your bungalow, where I learned to tie my laces and
how to live outside myself, is sold, but
sometimes I take the bus back through my childhood
because it passes by your fence, now painted blue.
I can’t help but crane my neck to stare
back down Coach Road, to see the sunflowers still haloing the fence,
their sunlight crowning your head.
Guests:
Washington Community Podcasting Group, with Chas Ferguson, Ged Parker, Nick Jobson, Kim Hunter, Gloria Finnigan, Thomas Finnigan, David Duffy, Sheila Oxley, Irene Ridley, Jim Metcalf, Olive Metcalf and Ian Murray
Music and Production
- Produced by: Grace Stubbings & the Washington Community Podcasting Group
- Music by: David Brewis
- Poem by Nasim Rebecca Asl
- Executive Producers: Caroline Mitchell & Jude Murphy
About the Project
This episode was developed in collaboration with:
- Washington Heritage Partnership
- Sunderland City Council’s Washington Area Committee
- Sunderland Culture at The Arts Centre Washington
- Baseline Shift
- We Make Culture
Supported by:
- The University of Sunderland
- The National Lottery Heritage Fund
