Waiting, anticipating the train.
Crossed upon these lines again.

My father seemed, confused, perplexed.
My sister Louise, she didn’t know why either.
Mam stayed home, afraid she may make a fuss.
Afraid she may show some emotion.

Wynn, well he’s done this all before,
at least twice, something of an expert.
Courage had come in four cans of double dragon.
Clattering in my pack.

Still we looked west, no sign the train.

Stand back for a second,
What am I really feeling here?
I’m too afraid to feel joy.
Too joyful to be certain.

A bit lost, uncertain how I’d done this
My fault, again, really.
I’d hoped, created, dissembled,
bluffed my way to this point.

It was Lee Williams, (Purdey we called him,
for his ridiculous bowl cut.)
It was he who had told me;
“Go down the education office, you’ll get in for certain.”

So I did. They said I was qualified enough to apply,
and the applications had gone out.
One interview in Windsor
Got offered a place there too.

But Lun had taken me to Plymouth,
I almost missed out, I almost didn’t go.
Where would I be now if I hadn’t?
Not here, not me, for certain.

But I could lie for Wales.
Not only kidding people who should know
better, that I deserved the place,
but also kidding myself I could pull it off.

They offered me a place,
without asking me to get maths sorted.
We’d crossed Dartmoor on the way back,
I’d seen my first tors, love at first sight.

Anyway, Plymouth it was to be.
An elderly aunt had given me fifty quid.
More money than I’d ever held,
confidence in a note.

I’d left the address of my digs to be
next to the phone at home.
Is that significant?
Was I hoping that I’d have to turn back?

So there I am, waiting for the train.

Thinking I could be away for three weeks or more.
Hoping it wouldn’t come, or that it would come sooner.
Hoping some friendly person would call my bluff and lead me home.
Under the bridge I’d crossed for primary and infants school.

Great Western train.

My father shook my hand, Louise just stared.

Follow