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Like the short opening enquiry to lead us in to the irregular longer stanzas, Max. The sense of confusion about adult ways in the speaker comes across well. One thing: Trams nor trains nor Ravenhills, none of them were for him. seems a little oddly constructed. Would you consider deleting the 'nor's? ie Trams, trains, Ravenhills, none of them for him. Bill On Thursday, 28 January 2016, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > The Ravenhills > [Wellington, 1947] > > What was it about them > made my mother their friend, > my father suspicious? > > Family friends, I sensed > for the first time, > could make for fraught > long silences at home. > > Off you go, visit them, > he must have said. > This she must fit in > between home duties > not to be ignored. > > So the evening meal > was on the hob by noon. > The quick electric train > and tram got us there. > > What was their home? > Did they have one? > Not quite - their job was > in the Air Force base - > high wire gates, > a sentry-box, no planes, > no air-field even - huts. > > One was the canteen > run by the Ravenhills. > Hence his blue serge suit. > > Their voices! - my first ever > from the North of England - > sang of cosiness, luv. > Why so far from home? > > The war was over, New > Zealand had small need > of airmen, aircraft, > canteens, portly folk > keeping the tea-urn hot. > > Mrs R and Mum put heads > together for long gossips, > intertwined fortunes, > others’ misfortunes. > > Mr R minded things. > No airmen came in. > Childless, he didn’t know > how to talk to kids; > > put on music: Gracie Fields > sang about Capri; > cheeky George Formby > had a ukelele > cleaning windows. > > I saw myself in a cockpit. > Rockfist Rogan and I > crash-landed our Spitfires nearby. > > I pretended I could > play billiards - against > myself, no contest. > > If Dad had come, he’d > have taught me how > to wield the heavy cue. > > He’d have driven us home. > Trams nor trains nor Ravenhills, > none of them were for him. > > Mum said: they’re finishing up. > Nowhere in the world to go. > Vera Lynn sang me home > to my own little room again.