My father's VE night
I should have posted this on Thursday ...
My father later denied
ever having told me
that on his VE night
he had pushed his bicycle home
all the way from Telford
back to the farm - he'd been
conscripted to the land,
digging there for Britain -
without ever quite managing
to get on and ride the thing.
Drink had been taken,
which does not sound like him -
I only ever saw
the occasional Mackesons
and the dutiful toasts at weddings -
but on this of all nights,
why would he not? I like
the image of him walking
his bike and himself back home,
like someone trying to reason
with a stiff and skittish horse ...
Whoa, there, Trigger.
And I'm sure he told me that.
I'm almost sure he did.
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