1

"Come on the Pool," I'd shout at home games
On Bloomfield Road, much to my dad's chagrin.
"You were born in Preston. You should support
North End not Blackpool."

2

From our upstairs window near the Irish Sea
On rare clear days we'd see in muted grey
And green the uplift of the Bowland Hills,
An easy cycle ride to breath a purer air.

3

Not a mountain in the Rockies, yet
Ingleborough in the English north
Seemed more than a mere hill, whose cap
Of millstone grit enticed me to the top.

4

Directly east of my boyhood's Fylde,
University College Hull, despite
My pitiful HSC results, enrolled
Me to study for a general BA.

5

In those now distant days a Nissen hut
Divided into four gave me it seemed
Unequalled privilege — a single bed,
A wardrobe, table, chairs and a kettle!

6

A teacher I became and found in every class
A swot or two who might beguile unthinking
Teachers, though not I, who recognised
The simple truth: do not play favourites.

7

Twice married — and twice jilted — my daughter
Bade me go to Spain where, on St. James's
Day, before his church in Compostela,
I chanced upon her who has favoured me
    For more than thirty years.