Carling with Cathy

[Gyppo]

Carling with Cathy

Sitting on my Gran's gate
in the sunshine,
sharing a can of Carling.
Black label no less,
with the girl next door.

Tall enough to get served
at fourteen, and a 'smooth git',
a polished little lady-killer
(in manners at least)
until I tripped over my own hormones.

Her mum came out,
screaming like a banshee,
calling me words I'd never heard
and banished her to her room.

I went through to Gran's back garden.
Cathy was already leaning from her window.
So I perched on the washhouse roof,
passed the can up to her,
and we played Romeo and Juliet
'til the can was empty.

Gyppo

[Dansinger]

That's a delightful poem, Gyp.

[Gyppo]

I believe I wrote it one year for the National Poetry Month.

Strange to think she'll be a pensioner and probably a Granny by now.  Wonder if I'd recognise her?

[Spell Chick]

Or would she recognize you?

[Gyppo]

I'm seriously surprised just how many people do.  I don't think I look at all like the younger me, but people I don't recognise straight away often remember me.