Author: Giles Griffin, Beginnings, Childhood, Poetry, Relationships

When I am four
I pull the telly over
A black and white monster
Comes crashing to the floor.

The decade in full swing
Mary Quant the very thing
Along with pick-up sticks.

Flashes of that day
Come Instamatic back
Chiefly the resounding thwack
Of carpet meeting cathode ray.

Truly aghast
At what I’ve gone and done
I dread tirade to come
Nuclear trumpet blast.

I think this was
A summer Saturday
Grandstand’s wild wordplay
Making mad Colemanballs.*

My father’s life
Was cricket, sporting stuff
I had already shown
So very little interest in.

So when that day
I grabbed the Rediffusion
I made my feelings clear
In my own childish way.

Already knowing
As children often do
That relationship blues
Were likely in the offing.

Within two years
The die was cast and fate
Made 1968 the date
Of change, divorce and tears.

* Colemanballs is a term coined by Private Eye magazine to describe verbal blunders made by sports commentators.

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