We reckoned if living in the vicarage made
their dad the vicar, it followed that our dad
must be the man
The vicar had a moonish face and always
looked at us over the top of his glasses, as
though our existence surprised him
He had a gold tooth tucked down the side
of his grin. Our dad said the bank was the
best place for gold
On rainy days we'd weave flax mats in the
wash house. When their mum got sick
of the mess she'd shoo us off
to the TV room as if it was a punishment!
We'd sink into the darkness of the tatty
leather sofa, absorbing
Lassie, Gentle Ben, poachers, deathtraps
- all uncommon occurrences in our town
And then after a scattering of thanks
back through the hedge to the warmth of
mum in the coal ranged kitchen, baby in
the playpen and bible readings after tea