In Keswick I Walked Tall

 

 

I walked the streets of Heywood

In my paper-round years,

I walked and walked, mimicked the dogs

That snarled at the letter box,

But none of it was my choice.

My Siddal Moor Schooling was

An escape from Sutherland

Where the boys and the girls from

The council estate,

Snarled at their world of a

One by one click of council

Blocks - with violence and glue.

My Siddal Moor years a mixed

Feeling of protection and neglect,

For you could tell from my clothes

The poverty still;

My ma saved like a bitch

And hitched me a holiday

To Keswick, where I first

Found a freedom I never did have.

My clothes they smelt of musk

And soap flakes having been put

Through the mangle,

But I didn’t care as I walked

With my only boots that ever

Fitted in childhood – Great Gable.

And all the girls and the boys

Heading the pecking order

Of clicks took one another’s hand

And had the last dance with

Themselves but not I,

Not I and thanks Miss Kirkbride

For choosing my dance,

You were always the fantasy

Of juvenile lads but you

Gave the last dance for me.

The Lakes were a Godsend

And thanks be to a Ma who

Wanted her boys to be tough,

For letting an arty request to

A country estate come true.

     I cried coming back from

The weeks Lakeland adventure,

For although fourteen years,

My life was a bastard on a

Council estate.

      As a man I know the kids

Let it go, as I tried my damndest

To fit in with the crowd with my

Lack of a sports kit

And never attending

But dysfunctional was how

We were living.

     Mrs Thornley and Miss

Kirkbride, two

Dames of class with whom

I have so much pride,

Made my life at the school

Worth attending, as living

With putting my paper round money

In the slot on the back of the TV,

Was just too demanding to see.

 

     I am a man of sorts now - with

Untold prophecies of doom circling

Above, for soldier I became

Doing cartwheels for freedom

From the council estate,

And the Lakes I venture

Every year that I can,

And Dancing Alones no longer

My death;

For the two dames here -

By my side.

 

Michael J Waite 18^th November 2011.

 

Dedicated to the teachers of Siddal Moor of 79 – 83, who let me past the door despite I coming from Darnhill.