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Those were the days.
I remember the times when we were young and could roam,
Our adventures were exciting sometimes in a sea full of foam,
Refreshed with jam sandwiches with sherbet drinks as a treat,
We’d climb the North Downs and whiz down on trays as a seat
We were carefree and safer from those we met in those days,
Life back then was simpler, less to worry about, in many ways,
No smart phones or social media to waste our time to explore,
We learnt skills like making wood whistles from Sycamore.
We also made pea shooters using hollowed Elderberry wood,
The ammo was various, cherry stones or rice when we could,
We made bouncy balls from old cycle inner tubes cut in strips,
Whipped up a frenzy with spinning tops and homemade whips,
Under Shakespeare Cliff, near Dover in a pool left by the sea,
We would make rafts out of oil drums and flotsam with glee,
Happy hours were spent there with one eye on the tide as it rose,
One day we forgot the time and ended up, soaked in our clothes!
Once we went with a friend to the East Cliff sands for a swim,
We always left our clothes in a heap on the sand, but not him,
He made a hole in the sand to bury his clothes from one’s view,
With a faux flag sticking up in the sand so its location he knew.
We spent many happy hours in the sea before we came out,
We quickly got dressed when we heard our friend’s shout,
“I can’t find my clothes, the tides come in over them, I’m sunk”,
Despite a frantic search not found, so off home in his trunks!
Those were the days, uncomplicated and freedoms galore,
Unfortunately, in today’s complicated world, not anymore,
Perhaps looking back doesn’t appeal to everyone’s taste,
But it has suited so many oldies, just to opt out of the race.