I walk with Tony.
Moonshine big, a bright and Brighton button overhead.
We tread the homeward esplanade.
The scaly plateful those unruly waves have laid before us
is now tight in Tony’s wide
and grateful grasp:
this tossed marine inhabitant,
windfallen fruit of the sea.
Three years before, the world had thrown up Tony.
It was back in Bristol. We the energetic students
set about the brightening of our gloomy 6th Form Common Room.
Tony, in the year below me, was unknown to me.
He had dipped his bare feet in the paint bucket.
And we held him bodily, topside down
and he walked the planks of strutted ceiling,
making all his markings there
and mightier impression on me.
My mate to be: in a world of pranks and disappointments,
an Artist.
And now,
here he is beside this sea, with the gift of fish
in his fingers.
Just for a chuckle, Tony once hurled his crash helmet arcing into the surging waters of Vassals Park.
And now, out of the dark, the world has thrown him back
a mackerel.
Bristol is the right place. It’s been an upheaval, alright. Marcel won’t leave the airport to join us, but he has to make his own choices. We all do.
I’m sorry to take John away from his friends and his football but he’s got a good school. The new youngsters will take a bit of getting used to. They do speak odd here. We have a bit of fun imitating them. Not in a nasty way, though. Angela’s fine. She’s such a lovely girl. My precious.
It’s very icy here at the moment. Please get your skates on and come see us. Canada’s had more than its fair share of you. It’s been great to start work again and hand over the hovering to Bob. Hoovering, I mean. He’s got the gardens lovely, as usual, front and back, and he’s started painting gnomes that a neighbour over the road first moulds in concrete. It’s great for him to be painting again and you can’t do landscapes all your life. Well, you can, but I’m not going to spoil it for him. He loves sitting out in the shed, giving them their own colours and characters. He’s started giving them names, but I said you don’t want to bother if you’re not going to keep them. They’re such cheerful little chaps. He’s been taking them round the village trying to make some sales. He’s sold four already, three of them to me.
You’re missed, Sis
Your sis
