There was community, back then,
back when vegan was still ital,
and Reduce, Reuse and Recycle
was vital not a poster on the wall.

Yeah, there was community then.
There was Spit the Dog and
Chelsea Smilers who punched
too-wide grins into your dreams.

Football at the end of the street
where they filmed an episode of The Bill
– though we didn’t have a TV anyway,
except for a few days at Christmas.

There were Guides and Brownies
and park fetes with sandwiches
covered in cling film and potted plants
for sale – always spider plants.

Yeah there was community,
locs shops and nursery drops,
mixed-race kids with brown tufts
who didn’t know they weren’t new.

There was skipping and songs
‘I’ll come knock for you’.
The Boring Park, the too-big ship,
and the hill that went hoo-ha.

Cardboard boxes bumming down
Henry VIII’s old playground.
Poo sticks on fast-flowing water,
picking promising piles at the jumble.

1p sweets in paper bags
20 for a week’s pocket money
5 hidden under the other sweets
hoping the newsagent wouldn’t see.

There was no money, no cafes,
no flat-white lives, or fat white
slices of sourdough-only bread
– just juice on your neighbour’s table.

Pulling a face at sweaty slices of
plantain, eating proper at school
because it was a proper meal –
three course with the salad trolley.

Yeah the custard had a thick film
but the pink milkshake and
crumbly biscuit was six-year-old
heaven, and the caramel tart…

…sweet for days.