Sunday 8 March 2009

Colin - my pal

We rode our bikes to Fewston and bought Barrs shandy from the tiny Post Office shop. I envied his bike. It had four gears.
We set fire to the grass verge with a magnifying glass. Scared, we turned back. We never pedalled so fast.
We climbed our neighbours’ fences when it was dark and nicked apples from their trees. We ate them in an old hen-hut on an abandoned allotment.
We spent our pocket money in the corner shops – Morgans, Turners and Hudsons.
We bought cigarettes in fives – Cadets, Woodbines, Buckingham and two ounces of sweets - Midget Gems, Riley’s Toffee Rolls, Mint Imperials and Yorkshire Mixture.
We climbed up the back of advertising hordings, sat on the girders and smoked.
We played three and in football and cricket with a bald tennis ball. We had a rule – no slogging – but we still did.
We spent hours by the river: catching bullhead; skimming stones to seeing how many bounces we could get; throwing stones and trying to hit sand martins as they swooped and dived. Of course we never could.
We played ponks in the gutter with our marbles, passing time on our way home from school.
Colin had a cool money-box. It was shaped like the top half of a negro man. You put a coin in his hand and he swallowed it.
He made me Marmite sandwiches for tea. We played Rummy.
We grew up, left school, got jobs. Girlfriends became more interesting than each other.
I haven’t seen him since.

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