A jamboree bag of the good old times

Was it that bad, our

council house? Playing football in the street. Chalking hopscotch on

the pavement

With plimsolls on our feet. The open fire that warmed us, Lino on the floor. Clothes that came from

jumble sales,

An unlocked kitchen door. When we went to sleep

at night

With frost inside the glass, A water bottle warmed us — Although it wouldn’t last! Our bikes, our

prized possession, Made from bits and bobs. Keeping watchful eyes out For roaming gangs of dogs. Cubs and Guides and

Bob-a-Job

Local fetes and

church bazaars.

Some dads on

weekend mornings Working on their cars. Cigarette cards and marbles, Saturday morning flicks. Pea soup foggy mornings, Pushing hula hoops with sticks. A local copper on the beat We even knew his name. When mischief came upon him He knew which kid to blame. The sirens that still sounded A memory of the past. Go-karts made with

pram wheels

Pushed by mates to make

them fast.

Coal men with their

open trucks Counting sacks they carried in. The rumble as they poured

them out,

Into the shed or concrete bin. Jamboree bags, penny sweets, Pocket money, too. Friday nights with fish and chips That freezing outside loo! Paraffin delivered

For heaters in the hall. Radios on sideboards A chained mirror on the wall. Alleyways with hide and seek, War games in the fields. Bamboo bows and arrows Dustbin lids used as shields. Summers spent on

roller skates

Or playing football in the park. Running back for tea-time Before it got too dark. Sunday dads down at the pub, Mothers cooking roast. The bath time in the evening Tea of jam on toast.

A pure and happy age gone by With memories held so dear. Walking streets around us With no worries or no fear. Rope swings, building bonfires, A penny for the guy,

Jumping jacks and bangers, Potatoes in the fire. Paper chains at Christmas Cherry brandy, Babycham. Coin meters for electric — Don’t forget the tally man. British bulldog on the

playground

Our mum’s friend we

called aunt,

Corgi cars and Dinky toys That exotic rubber plant. Park slides, roundabouts,

witches’ hats Bumping on the swings, The Beano and the Dandy Ordinary things. Thunderbirds and Tufty Club Knock down ginger, too, Catapults and home-made stilts That advert Esso Blue. Party lines on telephones, Scrumping people’s fruit, Picture rails in living rooms, Catching frogs and newts. Camps built in the nearby field, Carpet runners on the stairs, Mum in and out of every shop To save a penny here and there. Corona pop and Mikki milk, Laces on the ball, Washing lines with

concrete paths

Flying ducks up on the wall. What happened to those

good times?

Where did they all go? Memories I still treasure. I miss them don’t you know! The memories seem so endless There are so many more

I’m sure,

I hope I’ve covered most

of them

When we lived in times so pure.

Pete Dean, West Drayton, Middlesex.