In the dark age before Wikipedia

Brooke Bond tea cards dished the data

in a week-by-week drip feed

of bet-you-didn’t-know-that facts.

You could buy an album for sixpence

or snap an elastic band around them –

pocket-friendly, dependable,

your own bright almanac.

 

But couldn’t your family drink more tea?

– your mother refusing, stubbornly,

to open the packets until she was ready.

On the brink of closure

the sets might suddenly change.

A dab or a stickleback short

in shoals of British Freshwater Fish,

how you lamented the ones that got away!

 

At least you knew your duplicates

were as good as cash in hand,

a bankable hoard to trade

in the playground. Assuming a poker face,

you could do straight swaps

or keep a mate dangling

until he delivered the goods –

some vintage card he’d got from his dad.

 

The hours you spent refining skills

at Knocksy-down and Topsy

were the best shot you had at the jackpot.

Does anyone living remember the rules?

One by one you’d pick them up

if you landed on them. 

With a neat flick you’d cop the lot

once you had clipped the last card standing.