MEMORIES OF BOLTON
My 6-year-0ld self, - overcome with awe,
listens to the rumble and the rattle
as looms, majestically swept in unison,
back and forth across the vast mill floor.
Turbaned women shouted above the din
unperturbed by the continual motion.
Then on to the old covered market,
clutching my wicker, child-sized basket
and getting lost among the myriad of legs,
unnerved by rough forceful voices
competing in selling their wares
underscoring the complexity of choices.
But we were heading for the hot 'Vimto' stall
"it does you good" I was told
but I didn't like it.
We moved further into the depths
and the bustle increased becoming a crush,
I hated the noise and the rush
but I was promised a treat,
"The best ice cream in the world"
jiggling on tired legs, I anticipated
"The best ice cream in the world"
Tognarelli's no less, but was it the best?
one twopenny cone gave me a headache,
then we went home.
Rolph David
Sun 16th Mar 2025 17:42
Dear Flyntland,
Your reflection on the "twopenny cone" "hit" me especially hard. How simple and pure those moments were when a small ice cream could be the highlight of your day, yet it also brings a bittersweet realisation. Prices and expectations have changed so much since then, and now we find ourselves paying a fortune for a much smaller satisfaction. It’s fascinating how things shift — how what felt like an enormous treat in childhood is now a reminder of just how much more complex and expensive life has become.
Despite this, your poem reminds me that there’s something beautiful about those simple moments, even the ones that seemed small or insignificant at the time. The way you recount the “Vimto” stall, even though it didn’t quite live up to expectations, is a perfect reminder of how small disappointments are also part of those formative experiences — and how they become treasures in memory.
Thank you for taking me back to a time where things were simpler and smaller, but still so filled with meaning. Your poem brings the past to life with warmth and nostalgia.
Regards,
Rolph