On a visit to my local garage
Where tea and topless girls
Have largely been replaced
By Lattes
And The Daily Telegraph
I can’t help feeling nostalgia
For the smell of spent motor oil
Or the shrill of an electric wrench…

People
Like trees
Have their roots
And returning to this park
Always
Uncovers mine.
Autumn’s
The season…

When we were little
A ‘day out with the kids’
Occasionally involved
A trip to the ‘Breakers’

Scaling the towers
Of loosely stacked cars…

Every Sunday morning
My Grandpa Horace
Would lead his pony and trap
To the White Hart, Kingston…

Bringing up kids
Is harder than I thought
Early mornings
Late nights
And all the other stuff
In-between…

When I was little
We lived in a flat…

Traffic jams in the country
Are rubbish.
Give me the M25 any day…

I never gave up on smoking
Smoking gave up on me…

I’m living a double life
Not an exciting
Secret agent type double life.
But a rather boring
Commuter based one…