Fields Of Wheat

A Memory of Wallsend.

Eyes closed I can recall at will...
my childhood spent at Battle Hill..
As I walked amongst those tall tall trees,
it stirred a thousand memories.
The Steel Igloo, swings,and triple bars,
the plough made out of twinkling stars.
Denis in his big red van,
was a truly charismatic man!
The owl hooting in the hawthorn tree,
became a nightly thing for me.
The daddy long legs in the bath,
pitch and toss ,the old Red Path.
The whippets at the Barking Dog,
seeing tadpoles turn into frogs.
Building igloos in the street,
those secret dens in fields of wheat.
We'd catch bumble bees in coffee jars,
eat delicious chewy Texan bars.
Wagon Wheels and Walnut Whips,
pineapple fritter with our chips.
We always went to Walkers shop,
for comic books and Cresta Pop.
On the Rediffusion box we'd climb,
and play there for the longest time.
The Pools man calling on his bike,
the power cuts, the endless strikes.
Orange Space Hoppers, and Pogo Sticks,
Meccano, Lego, Sticklebricks.
I'd drink puddled water from the ground,
and eat the sweets I sometimes found.
The girls swapped scraps and played with dolls,
wore knitted ponchos,and wooden scholls.
Choppers ,Chippers Tomahawks,
Taking Gaz Cain,s dog Roy out for walks.
Graco,s van would daily sell,
sugar cones,or Oyster shells.
Sledging down the great pit heap,
snowdrifts sometimes eight foot deep
We all had nowt, yet had it all.
Such was life back then we were small.
I always have and always will.
be proud to hail Battle Hill.

James Bridgewood
5-5-12

---

---