Palfrey Park DH 1965

Which is the way to Palfrey Park? I used to know,

I used to go.

And under all weather conditions. Two by two we marched, under the watchful Kellys’ eye. Comb over and all. Boys for the football, no change, no kit. Our Football Boots were all that we needed.

On green grassy field we played the game. In that urban park, planted in the middle of nowhere. We were about nine years old.

Once when walking I heard my first shaggy dog story, told by my marching partner, Adrian Tams. It involves a mouse and a two tone white number seventeen London Transport double decker bus. I listened and remembered the whole story, for all the twenty one minutes it took to tell.

Adrian was killed nine years later, crushed under his car whilst fixing a fault, when it collapsed off the jack.

Copyright 2020 Christopher Thompson.

All rights reserved.

Triple Mentions

Here on the green I stood
As I set out a first memory.
The road looked too long
For the likes of me.
The green was on the corner.
I was four years old
As I remember.
I told my inquisitor so.

On the bridge
Or near it I think,
I only remember the bad words
I was made to speak by older ones.
Probably only six
I knew nothing of what I spoke.
I hope 1962 Is a better year for you
The insurance man said to my mom.

And 1968 felt tragic to me.
It was like we were all doomed.
I had became manly too fast.
The root of childhood had been lost
Blind hope paid by a future cost,
Carelessly true senses sprang up
And cascaded to my feet,
And I was defeated at 12.


© 2014-2019 Christopher Thompson

TRIPLE MENTIONS of CHILDHOOD

the corner ground level (2)


Here on the green 
Is where I stood,
With my Mom;
As I set my first memory.
This is my earliest memory
This is where it was.
The road looked too long
For the likes of me.
The green was on the corner.
I was four years old
And I remember;
I had just told 
My inquisitor so.

On The Victory Bridge
Or near it 
Perhap on the Bayou,
I remember the bad words
That I was made to speak 
By older boys.
Being probably only six
I knew nothing of what I was made to speak.
The Pearl Insurance man said to my mom.
"I hope 1962 is a better year for you".
There was a distinctive smell
I may have been his hair oil.

The turn of 1968 felt tragic to me.
It was a sense of us all being doomed.
Had I became adult too soon?
The root of my childhood had been lost.
Blind hope paid out to a future cost.
Careless but true senses sprang up
And cascaded to my feet.
And I was defeated at 12 years old.


© 2014-18 Christopher Thompson  All Right Reserved