The Lollipop Tree
Imagine if you will a world in slightly dusty crimpolene and paisley prints where everyone wore flares, big hair and cheesecloth. Add to this picture smokers, white dog poo, Morecombe and Wise and school milk just leaving by the hand of one Milk Snatcher.


This, dear reader, was the world of my childhood.


My parents had many friends all of whom spoke the Queen’s English with a broad brogue of Scots or Irish apologies for constantly repeating myself here and I being a sweet little girl with more than a passing resemblance to Shirley Temple (damn those curls!) was regularly taken around the Celtic Ghetto in which we lived.

Now as many of you who still live in the Auld Land (on both sides of the water) will know, those carrying blood of the ancient Celts are blessed with the Blarney.

Kiss the stone?

Feck me, we all swallowed it!

Actually my dad did a family history search some years ago and discovered we’re descended from the poets of the Kings of Connaught – although I think for ‘poets’ you should perhaps substitute jesters or piss artists.

Anyway, back to the tale…..

So, as a cute as a button wee girly I was taken around all the pals and for many, many years I believed that one friend of my dad’s had a special tree in his garden.

Larry was an old family friend – he’d been at school with one of my dad’s aunts back in Scotland and had left when he was called up for WW2 – he’d been on the beaches at Normandy as a very young man and was now seeing out his retirement in sunny Kent.

I was told that this special tree grew wondrous things….

Lollipops.

And every time we went to visit there on the branches of the tree would be a toffee lollipop just for me.

Larry had acquired this tree from a witch and she was a great friend of his, so great in fact that she would send him boxes of Black Magic chocolates regularly but sadly he hated them so they were thrown away.

“But, but I LOVE Black Magic chocolates Larry! Give them to me!” was my cry every time he told me this – which he did each time he saw me after I’d scoffed my lollipop.

“Oh, I didn’t know you liked them! I’ll try to remember next time.” He’d always reply.

Until one Christmas when I couldn’t have been anymore than seven or eight years old.


It was early evening and there was a ring at the doorbell.

My parents told me to answer it – something that they never did probably because I’d have invited anyone in and sold the family formica.

So out I went to the hallway…

the hallway was bathed in bright red light from the Chinese lantern lampshade brought back by my uncle from Hong Kong when he’d been with the army. I pulled back the heavy curtain and opened the door but no one was there.

Just as I was about to close the door I looked down and there sitting on the concrete step was a box of Black Magic chocolates in their tell-tale black box with red ribbons…and on the box was a white card which read –


“A gift from the Lollipop Witch.”


And my Christmas was made.





*********************************


A couple of decades later and I have children of my own….

Larry has long gone to join the other old soldiers and witch-friends in the sky, yet his spirit lives on....



My sons' favourite tree in their grandparents’ garden?

The lollipop tree.

My boys are ten and a half and one of them still firmly believes that there is a lollipop tree.

I just wish I could get hold of a money tree. Does anyone have a cutting?
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 22:17, 12 replies)

Nice.
I wish I had had someone like that as a child...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 21 Aug 2008, 22:24, closed)

Fabliss!
What a lovely story; very touching!

As for the money tree, how about a twig with a few fivers attractively stapled to it?
(blueberrypossum wants to Jaffa your Cake, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 22:27, closed)

I've met the boys
And they do believe in the lollipop tree.

Bless!
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 21 Aug 2008, 22:41, closed)

Beautiful...........
This is true immortality - when your kids're older they too will pass this on......and knowing that is worth more than any money tree........I'm normally a hardened cynic but I loved this story - cheers!
(wobbegong69 has been soaring................, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 22:46, closed)

all comes flooding back
white dog crap though, those were the days!
(Discreditor wants the dream to come true, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 22:49, closed)

That's awesome!
my mum had a prayer plant. :(
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 23:03, closed)

I happen to have some money tree seeds right here
...and I'll sell you 5 of the shiny golden pips for a shockingly low price of ten pounds.

Bear in mind that they take 100 years to grow because the outer casings are so hard
( Fireflier La la la la, not listening on, Fri 22 Aug 2008, 0:56, closed)

*clicks*
What a lovely story, I'm just sorry my children are too old for me to convince them of this now. Oh well, will just have to save it for my nieces!
(Kinabe is considering a new tattoo, Fri 22 Aug 2008, 9:42, closed)

Nice. *click*
But don't you know money doesn;t grow on trees?
It's technically a vegetable:)
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Fri 22 Aug 2008, 10:51, closed)

Aaaw that is so nice!
I could be a lollipop witch, too. Except my youngest has outgrown the gullible stage ...

ah well

*click*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Fri 22 Aug 2008, 16:22, closed)

Ace story
Clicks aplenty.
(Musuko, Fri 22 Aug 2008, 17:53, closed)

i may well pass this on
if I ever deem the time right to sow my oats in a procreative fashion.
(Ethelred is watching cheese grow, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 10:15, closed)