My transistor would crackle and hiss,
Playing Pick of the Pops, Alan Freeman, ‘Not ‘arf!’
Just one hour of musical bliss.
We’d hang round the boating lake hoping to walk
Past the big, handsome boat-keeper lad.
Then we’d stand on the solid stone bridge and we’d talk
Of a time we’d no longer be sad.
We knew we both wanted to meet Mr Right,
Get engaged, buy a house of our own
Have a couple of kids, leave our childhood behind,
Have a better life once we were grown.
We both worked so hard with our homework and worse,
Like the weekly clean-up of our room!
We wanted to leave all that hard work behind
And be rid of our teenager gloom.
Now, I know that I’m not the first person to want
To turn time back so my friend and me
Could still listen to music and dream all our dreams
Of how great being grown-up would be.
[The park was Abbey Park in Leicester. The boating lake and big stone bridge are still there but these days the lads in charge of the boating lake look so young! As for my friends, sometimes I walked round with Linda and sometimes Sylvia. I’ve not been in touch with either for decades. Wonder if they remember our Sunday walks round Abbey Park.]
Oh my!Been there , did that. May have to pen own verse, tho will never match this! Now...what rhymes with 'underage drinking'....
ReplyDeletesaved allowance forever to buy that transistor radio. Walked around our block in PA with Cathy, Klair, and Lynn - blasting that tinny music. Fun poem with universal theme.
ReplyDeleteOh, I remember transistor radios! And walking across Cannon Hill Common, coming home from the pub in the dark, knowing every bump and tree-root so somehow we never tripped up even after a pint or three!
ReplyDeleteI walked along the Stockholm waterfront with my friend Marii. She was the first one to move to the US. She got married first and then we lost touch. She never knew that I moved here.
ReplyDeleteI lived a shelter kind of life. I was too afraid God would strike me dead and my mother would help bury me under the house.
ReplyDeleteHugs and chocolate,
Shelly
Lovely poem Ros, first of all.
ReplyDeleteMy friends and I used to go biking all over Leicester, most notably to Bradgate Park, and another local one called Western Park. We would walk around the fields there, hit some golf balls, blow up aerosol cans on lazy summer days, and play tennis at the tennis courts, and football with jumpers for goalposts. The good old days. We thought we would never grow up and that this lovely childhood would last forever!
Remember Radio Luxemburg under the bed sheets and 'pick of the pops' too. I used to be taken to Abbey Park when I was little but by the time I was a teenager we'd moved to a small Derbyshire village. My friend and I would chatter and dream as we walked through the woods and down by the brook where we would sit on the bridge and dangle our feet before crossing the fields towards home. Lovely poem:)
ReplyDeleteSounds like me. Remember the little earphone you put in one ear listening to it under the bedcovers at night as Rosie said. I remember walking round my friends estate pushing a pram as she was babysitting talking about who we would marry and how many children we would have.We're both grandmothers now.
ReplyDeleteHi Carol, looking forward to reading you underage drinking poem! We used to drink cider and think we were so grown up.
ReplyDeleteHi Joanne, mine was a birthday present, pale green plastic. It lasted for years. All those batteries!
Hi Jo, that sounds like a fun time. Bet kids wouldn't be allowed to do that now.
Hi Inger, it's sad when we lose touch with old friends. Maybe it's just part of growing up... Moving on.
Hi Shelly, that sounds like a scary way of thinking. Hope your head has broken free of it now.
Hi Duncan, so you were one of those yobs blowing up cans huh!!!
Hi Rosie, sounds like your teenage bridge was much prettier than mine.
Hi Anne, it's lovely that you're still in touch with your old friend.
I went walking, but since I lived on a farm, the handsome fellows I saw were riding a tractor or mucking out the cattle barn. :D
ReplyDeleteLovely poem Rosalind! It is amazing how we thought that keeping our bedroom clean was such a chore! I lived walking distance from a beautiful outdoor mall where we would often go. Julie
ReplyDelete