two penneth of chips and trips t' bay
school's out for Summer
we're all on holiday
and
the budgie died last night,
but dad said,
it flew away.

The Beatles on the telly
some
yellow submarine,

being young back then in Lancaster was
just like living in a dream

and ice cream after dinner
from
the man called Mr Whippy,
he sells his cornets every night
just outside the chippie
where Rita and her husband
make fresh batter to coat the fish
and I wish that I were back there
in the passages of time.