Caravan adventures
Caravan adventures
Why did we go to Crimdon Dene
To sit on a clifftop
In a caravan
Rain battering down all day long,
With the sound of it
An artillery barrage,
We were a platoon of young soldiers
Huddled around a fold-down table
Ashtrays overflowing with
The dogends of Capstan full strength
Aunt Doris smoked Kensitas
For the coupons
She died too young
Withered into a wheelchair
Right before our eyes
MS they said
I thought M&S was a shop
In the town centre
I didn’t want to go there for ages
Just in case of infection
I still buy their underwear
We played cards for pennies
In the flickering light
Of gas wall lamps
There was something
Strangely ritualistic about lighting them
With a taper
Careful not to damage the mantels
The shadows could be scary
Especially when there was lightning
Closely followed by thunder
My brother and I hid under
The blankets we brought from home
Counting the seconds
Waiting for the caravan to explode
Careful not to disturb
The cooking pot between us
Artfully placed to catch the drips from the
Sagging roof
We held on to our pee
Afraid to go outside
The ground sopping wet
All the way across to the privy
We shared with four other
Holiday families
Making light of the discomfort
With bulldog spirit
Mum and Dad made friends for life
So they said
I just remember Aunt Doris
And her husband, Ken
I always thought he was Scottish
But he was born just up the road
In Houghton
Where they had the best harvest festival
In Durham
Dodgem cars and a Ghost train
I was never sure where
Madi Gras and fancy dress
Fitted into a church service
But it worked
Almost as well as the miners Gala
In Durham
When the sun always seemed to shine
On brass bands
And teenagers came of age
Under the bleachers
Behind the boxing arena
Where local youths could win
A fiver if they lasted one round
With a guy the size
Of Andre the Giant
He wore extra-large gloves
To cushion his effect
We looked forward to it
Even as we huddled together
In a caravan that once was a bus
Making shadow plays
With our hands
Listening to the rain
As a counterpoint
To adult laughter
Making the best of memories
From the days
When making do and mending
Was a national pastime.