Rousing early he crossed the car park
from his bungalow and cooked full
English breakfasts for all the residents.
(He was probably more proud of this
than all his considerable achievements)
Then home again to return at two,
just as the lunchtime crowd were leaving,
when he would pour his first whisky
and a little water, and smile at me
in a conspiratorial way, and we passed
the afternoon in a cloud of tobacco
and congenial inanities and profanities.
I didn’t notice the artificial mop
or chunky gold bracelet, and became
attuned to the slightly slurred delivery.
He never got to retire in the Florida Condo,
but I can still see him, whenever I drive past
crossing the car park, with a glint in his eye.
John H Davies
26th January 2011
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