Memories

Memories

I was born and raised on National dried Milk
My cot sheets were cotton and not black silk
Began my teething on a Farley’s rusk
Screaming all day from dawn until dusk
Sent bandy from Terry towel nappy
That red raw rash made me unhappy.

At four years old I was pushed off to school
For which I took umbrage – thought it so cruel!
But I settled down, played marbles and ‘Flick’
With cigarette cards I’d managed to nick
off my big brother whose old shirt I wore
With baggy short trousers that dragged on the floor.

A sprinkle of sugar on Mothers pride bread
When you came home from school kept you well fed,
We had re-cycling a long time before
There was a green bin placed outside our door
For nothing was wasted all was consumed
And if you didn’t like it -hunger soon loomed.

Mothers bread pudding was our staple diet
If stuff wasn’t fresh then Mum wouldn’t buy it
Chips with batterbits was Saturday lunch
For tea, mashed bananas bought by the bunch
While the radio spewed out the pools results and
Dad hoped to scoop the seventy five grand.

On a Friday night the breadman would call
The milkman, the coalman, Mum paid them all
The Corona man brought us all fizzy pop,
Half pints of orange juice filled to the top
Supplied by the milkman with sterilised milk
Slipped down thirsty throats smooth as silk!

Had two TV channels both black and white,
The Woodentops made us scream with delight
Our friends Bill and Ben were always about
When weed popped up we’d all bawl and shout,
George Formby on Sunday was always a must
And Old Mother Riley for laughs you could trust.

Rawhide and Wagon Train kept us all glued
To the telly at night – but mother was shrewd
A little slot meter was fixed onto the back
Gave us the shows till the screen went black
Just half of Cheyenne was all that you got
Because mum didn’t have a bob for the slot.

Luxembourg gave us the charts on the radio
We watched the six five special, Ready steady go,
Billy Fury, Adam Faith, Cliff Richard and more
Played from the Dansette on the bedroom floor,
Young Janice Nicholls said ‘Oi’ll give it five’
On ‘Thank your lucky stars’ coming on live.

Sliding down grass slopes on cardboard from the shop
Supping Dandelion and Burdock – such strange pop,
The Beano, The Beezer and the Dandy too,
The Buster the Topper had free gifts for you,
Bunty and Judy were what our sisters read
Stories of Four Marys, kept beneath the bed.

Looking back on my times, makes me so sad
But I loved every moment when I was a lad,
Becoming a fireman when I grew older
Then a Policeman and then a Soldier.
My innocence of childhood now long gone
But here in my head they will all live on.