Local Hero

~

long before the advent of

ready meals, when bread and 

dripping was considered as

fast-food by us village kids,

I knew a peculiar local chap 

who grew mushrooms 

in an old shallow ceramic sink

just outside his back door, 

he kept them dark

under a couple of ancient

Co-op coal sacks 

that mysteriously were full

of anthracite when he acquired them,

he used to force rhubarb too

under an old galvanized bath tin

that his wife used religiously

to bath all eight of them, 

albeit they always looked 

mucky at school my mother said,

in later life he took to wearing 

a surgical corset on account of

a mythical bad back, which 

kept him from regular work,

even in a good summer, 

when stripped to the waist

save for the corset,

he’d stroll down to the paper shop

to cash his giro, looking like 

an under-nourished Spartacus,

he famously won a grand

on Littlewood’s pools,

a lot of money in those days,

the kids each had new duffle coats

although the steward of the

Working Mens’ Club saw most of it,

sadly, some would say not,

he came to a sticky end

by foolishly stepping out 

in front of a stationary bus 

at the shelter, his favourite haunt

for picking up dog-ends 

for his eclectic roll-ups, 

his missus, a noisy scrawny

terrier of a woman

had to go out cleaning after that

although my mother would be fond 

of saying that she ought to start 

with her own house first

*

© Graham R Sherwood 12/23