The bicycle would be parked
Leaning against the mesh fence
Granny would mutter, mind my roses
While granddad would say
Ah the man with the sealed secrets, put the kettle on.
Everyday at noon the postman would call
He didn’t always have letters but he always had news!
The fresh loaf was cut, strong tea brewed
The postman was the only one we ever saw
Pour whiskey into his tea.
Nothing to report today he’d tell granddad
They’re all above ground
The weather is threatening rain
Hope it holds off for the next couple of hours
Everyday the conversation took the same line
We’d sit in the corner whisper the conversation to each other.
Once the tea was done he’d say
I’ll be off now John Joe once I get this head of steam up.
It never ceased to amaze us
How he held the pipe in his mouth
With just three teeth on top
And no bottom teeth.
(c) Chris Black 2017.