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The
clattering of the coaches on the points
The
whistle of the warning
The
hoot of the horn
The
whoo whoo of the whooper
The
countryside shooting past faster than you can see it, “Which
station was that?”
“When
will we get there?”
“How
much longer?”
The
crush of people getting through the ticket barrier
The
flood of people going down to the sea,
The
chatter, chatter, laughter and chatter
“Can
I have an ice cream?”
The
cries of the street-sellers
The
stalls of stuff from China, Taiwan and Africa,
Neckerchiefs
and necklaces,
Belts,
blouses, bangles and beads,
Pushchairs,
pails, pictures and postcards
Buckets,
balls, biscuits and balloons
The
bongo drums drumming and bonging
“Can
I have an ice cream?”
The
screams and the laughs of the children
The
music of the rides at the funfair
The
carousel with the horses bobbing up and down,
to
the sound of the fair-ground organ
“Oh
we do like to be beside the seaside.”
The
girls and their lads crushing up together in the Waltzer
“Can
I have an ice cream?”
The
gasps of the parents
The
cockles and winkles at the stalls out-selling,
Jellied
eels, dressed crab, and pickled herring,
Pizzas
or paninis, chips or fries,
Burgers
or baguettes, Beer or cider
Or
may be it’s a glass of wine on the terrace with canapes
“Can
I have an ice cream?”
There’s
a parade!! Well is it a children’s parade?
Or
is it Gay Pride. Or is it the Veteran Car parade
or
veteran buses or Harley Davidsons
or
Minis or the annual twenty thousand bikers
or
The Hare Krishna Cart Festival
“Where’s
the band?”
“I
can’t see, lift me up.”
“Can
I have an ice cream, please?”
Hire
a deckchair for a fee,
Huddle
behind a wind-break,
Have
cup of coffee
and
a slice of ginger cake.
The
men snoring, sleeping off their lunchtime ale
The
hats and caps for sale
The
day’s mementoes - What a tale
Visit
the aquarium and see the whale
The personal cartoon you’ll hate for ever
The
huge soft toys now nor never
“When
can I have an ice cream?”
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The
joggers, the walkers,
roller-skaters,
and runners,
strollers,
and dog-walkers,
Mums
pushing their push-chairs
Carers
pushing their wheelchairs.
“I
want an ice cream. Mummy, mummy,
Can
I have an ice cream, now.
Oh
please mummy, please.”
Lifeguards
in Spanish national colours, some in shorts,
Lifeguards wearing
winter warmers, some putting sun-cream on,
Beach
patrols in four wheel drive buggies,
Red
and yellow flags, no one in the sea,
Watch
the kite surfers scoot across the waves,
Launch
themselves into the air
And
the townies riding the water motor bikes
Watch
the catamarans and racing dinghies
Watch
the stately yachts sail past
“A
pot of tea for two, with pastries.”
Or
is it pastramis,
The
brass band playing on the band stand,
Long-forgotten
hymns or strident martial music.
Towelling
off and getting dressed
Forgetting
to put the sun tan cream on
Looking
like a lobster
Walking
barefoot on hot pebbles
Kite
flying; footballing;
Join
in the volleyball
And
cricket bat and ball.
Join
in the fun, bring your own beach-ball
Your
own beach games, so bring a ball,
There’s
plenty of room for all.
“Can
I have an ice cream, mummy, please?”
A
sudden rain shower everyone diving into
the
nearest pub, cinema, restaurant,
or
to a café for a bun with butter
May
be to write a postcard or a letter,
Then
it’s past, down to the beach. That’s better.
The
water in the paddling pool isn’t any wetter.
Finally
the trudge back up to the station
A
pause for another beer or lager ration,
The
wait, then sinking back with the rolling motion
Gently
soothing with the after-sun lotion.
Mummy,
mummy can we come again tomorrow?
©
Cliff Jenkins 19th
September 2009
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