- Feb 3, 2024
New blog post by mickleinapickle – discussions in this thread, please
---
By @mickleinapickle
Get the discussion going – post your thoughts & comments in the thread below…
---
I had to go back,
there were ghosts to kill.
.
I remembered the main street,
the bleak council houses,
and downbeat people
in that grimy town.
.
Almost killed
on that road.
.
Siblings in tow,
hurrying as usual,
late for school again,
crossing without looking…
Landrover screeching to a halt.
.
That irate red-faced man shouting,
me rushing away with my ragged flock.
.
“Get stuffed, you miserable bastard!” I yelled.
Everybody shouted and swore in those days.
.
I walked slowly to the house of my upbringing
in the middle of a rundown terraced row.
Same building except for the paint.
.
Bittersweet memories.
.
Six children in two bedrooms
telling crazy stories all night.
How we howled with laughter.
.
Forever avoiding the Carter boys.
The times when they finally caught me,
when they beat me for being a smelly belly.
.
I saw the pub where my father had his brawls
and I was proud when he beat McGonigal,
then he left us again and I hated him.
.
I continued past the housing estate
to the rubbish-strewn canal,
the place that I escaped to,
where the Carter boys
couldn’t find me.
.
I sailed with pirates,
defeated aliens,
slew dragons,
rescued maidens;
ran for the hell of it all.
.
I was a Masai stalking a lion,
I broke the 4-minute mile barrier,
I was the first to land on the moon,
I scored the winning goal for England,
I was Scott against the Antarctic winter,
I ran with Buck to answer the call of the wild.
.
Just a smelly boy with his smelly daydreams.
.
I quickened my pace as I returned to my vehicle.
.
There would be people who remembered me
but I decided to give them a miss.
.
I left them behind again,
left the town behind,
didn’t need them,
didn’t need it.
.
I wasn’t
smelly
now.
---there were ghosts to kill.
.
I remembered the main street,
the bleak council houses,
and downbeat people
in that grimy town.
.
Almost killed
on that road.
.
Siblings in tow,
hurrying as usual,
late for school again,
crossing without looking…
Landrover screeching to a halt.
.
That irate red-faced man shouting,
me rushing away with my ragged flock.
.
“Get stuffed, you miserable bastard!” I yelled.
Everybody shouted and swore in those days.
.
I walked slowly to the house of my upbringing
in the middle of a rundown terraced row.
Same building except for the paint.
.
Bittersweet memories.
.
Six children in two bedrooms
telling crazy stories all night.
How we howled with laughter.
.
Forever avoiding the Carter boys.
The times when they finally caught me,
when they beat me for being a smelly belly.
.
I saw the pub where my father had his brawls
and I was proud when he beat McGonigal,
then he left us again and I hated him.
.
I continued past the housing estate
to the rubbish-strewn canal,
the place that I escaped to,
where the Carter boys
couldn’t find me.
.
I sailed with pirates,
defeated aliens,
slew dragons,
rescued maidens;
ran for the hell of it all.
.
I was a Masai stalking a lion,
I broke the 4-minute mile barrier,
I was the first to land on the moon,
I scored the winning goal for England,
I was Scott against the Antarctic winter,
I ran with Buck to answer the call of the wild.
.
Just a smelly boy with his smelly daydreams.
.
I quickened my pace as I returned to my vehicle.
.
There would be people who remembered me
but I decided to give them a miss.
.
I left them behind again,
left the town behind,
didn’t need them,
didn’t need it.
.
I wasn’t
smelly
now.
By @mickleinapickle
Get the discussion going – post your thoughts & comments in the thread below…