Through the cobweb curtains

Whether the old spider lives under a broken flower pot, or perhaps in some dark corner of the window frame, our eight legged companion still demands the same respect. In my opinion it’s a brave man indeed that dares to brush away its silken trap with his bare hand.

     Hands up anyone who has ever owned a shed and never been greeted by a handsome cobweb curtain draped across the window.  It’s as natural as discovering that a colony of greenflies has just taken up residence on your favourite rose. So it seemed a good idea to use Cobweb Curtains as the title for a series of little tales about the collection of unusual objects that had taken up residence in Morris Wainwright’s garden shed.

scrao box hall
Scrap Box Hall

    Of course, I’m talking about Rusty Nail and her friends Sprocket and Young Pinion, as well as Wingsey Nut, the cross threaded wingnut, Springaling and the Two Faced Nut, whose constant arguing with himself often drives the others to distraction.

     These strange but endearing characters sprung to life out of some of my earliest memories, often recalled through a vale of cobweb curtains, when as a child in the late nineteen forties, I would delight in exploring the secret place below the bench in my Grandfather’s garage.

     I never ceased to be fascinated by the shape and feel of objects such as discarded sparking plugs, or mysterious acetylene lamps that I was told had once lit the way for an Edwardian cyclist.

     All this I discovered by the dim light of the sun, bouncing from tins of washers and split pins or an ageing oil can standing on the dust covered sill, as it peeped through the tiny window half obscured by a curtain of cobwebs.  I need only add the aroma of a warm radiator and a hint of petrol and I would be back there, sitting on the chrome bumper of the old Bantam that had just been put to bed by my Grandfather.

      I’m a child of the post war years and realize that since then the world has changed out of all recognition except, of course, for the cobweb curtains.  Whether the old spider lives under a broken flower pot, or perhaps in some dark corner of the window frame, our eight legged companion still demands the same respect. In my opinion it’s a brave man indeed that dares to brush away its silken trap with his bare hand.

     I imagine that the dark corners of sheds, barns and garages still grip the imagination of many youngsters eager to find some long forgotten cricket bat, or a Hornby with a string of red and cream carriages, only to be deterred by a great silken web draped across their discovery like a portcullis guarding a castle gate.

     In the same way perhaps, the old spider ensures the long term survival of Rusty Nail and Sprocket in Morris Wainwright’s garden shed. It would be comforting indeed to believe that such a delicate and intricate creation as a cobweb curtain was in some way responsible for keeping the secrets of Rusty, Sprocket and the others safe, that is, until now!

Barry Freeman

Cobweb Curtains

 

Author: Spellbrooktales

We publish books for personal distribution, such as memoirs, legacy writing, poetry collections, short stories.

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