‘Saint Grandma’ by Lola Claire

Creative Collections

Lola Claire is an actor, director, writer and graduate of East 15 Acting School. She has written pieces for the Southwark Playhouse 50/50 Festival and acted and directed in pieces such as ‘The Starship Osiris’ (Soho Theatre), ‘Ophelia Now’ and ‘Celtic Sisters’ (Tara Arts Theatre). She is an international creative based in London, San Diego and Vancouver. You can keep up to date with Lola’s work by checking out her website, or following her on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter.

LC: This piece, ‘Saint Grandma’ was inspired by the nostalgia of watching ‘I Love Lucy’ and golden era films with my grandmother. On reminiscing these times and how they influenced my passions as a performer, my love and admiration for the real firecracker in my life, my grandmother, shines through.

Saint Grandma

By Lola Claire

Sitting there with her burning red-hair, watching the flame that matched her on the
black and white T.V.
Among my favourite things those early mornings was snuggling into her soft and
squishy skin, smelling of a time long gone.
Saturday mornings were when I got to watch the antics of Lucy unfold.
No one else yet awake in the house, I’d tip-toe downstairs to find Grandma in the
glow of the screen.
We’d watch in awe.
We didn’t often laugh out loud; it was too early and the world too still. But we paid
our respects to Mrs Ball with early morning devotion.
Turner Classic’s at 6:00 am: the meeting place for memories and tuition.
Faces raised in gentle admiration to the goddess of joy, comedy, and fire.
We breathed in guile.
Out folly.
Remembering the simple joys of life and love.
The firecracker in black and white, the firecracker in soft skin, burnt into me a joy
and a sizzling strength in womanhood.
Those early morning rituals disciplined me:
independence, boldness, strength, and joy.

I Love, You love, We love Lucy.
Reigning Queen
Actor, writer, comedian, producer.

Goddess of fire.

Lavender-scented soap, she touches-up her red-roots.
She always wanted titian, like Dad’s; she searches for glistens of copper in the
sunlight- or is it because of Lucy.
Her bright pink lipstick, and sequins jumpers; I thought that was all grandmas – but
maybe it’s Lucy.
Her insistences that at 4ft 9 that she reaches the sky; may be high school drama- or a
bit of Lucy.
Heels clicking, a jingle of gems, a glorious whistling kettle.
Maybe it is Lucy.
Or maybe those early mornings devotions were to a prayer to you;
A glance in the mirror,
A pat on the back.
An icon in black and white
Doesn’t burn like a Saint in the flesh.

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