When I was young, soul slate-clean
Thinking myself immortal
With long hard icy winters
Freezing landscapes lasting months
Snowmen carrot nosed, eyes of coal
Children tobogganing laughing with delight
Racing downhill on upturned milk crates.
Long bright summers of joy
Never seeming to end.
Tree camps built in woods
Playing cowboys and Indians
Thinking girls were silly
Not liking football, frogs and mice
Wanting to play kiss chase with boys.
Sixpence pocket money on mantelpiece
Given by father for Saturday morning cinema
Where we sat eating ice lollies in crowded stalls
Cheering Hop-a-long Cassidy and Roy Rogers
Booing loudly at black-hatted villains
Sweets rationed, gobstoppers, fizzy saucers
Bull eyes, sticky toffee, chocolate bars.
Living in a street with no doors locked
Friendly neighbours ready to help
Bank holidays to Brighton
Paddling in warm sea, building sand castles
Eating fish and chips from newspapers
Chewing sticks of pink peppermint rock
Brighton’s name all the way through.
Cinema with family on Wednesday nights
Hot meat pie on the way home
Carried on father’s shoulders
Over field at back of our house
Mother’s kisses and hugs
Stories read by my father at bedtime
These were precious things when I was young.
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