The Journey
I walked from Finchley Central for the bus from Golders Green,From the local newsagents I bought a paper and a glossy magazine.It was dark and misty, so I set off in the morning early,A trip of seven hours but so eager for this journey. There was a crowd but I was pushing in, the inspector said wait a minute,Okay, on you go but let me punch your ticket.So here I was on the coach anticipating it leaving,Can’t wait to get back home, I cant control my breathing. I opened up my wallet, to put my ticket back,And slotted in the cut was a little white and black.I just stared at this photo, in fact for quite a while,My eyes went dim, my head bowed, I’ll never forget that smile. When I was three, I cut my knee, I fell on a broken stick,He washed it out, but not before every splinter he did pick.Once I was feeling better, he walked me around the streets,He bought himself tobacco and treated me to some sweets. I used to watch him go to work from our tenement window up above,I hated watching him walk away but in those days it was tough.He was up at five each morning and didn’t come home til after seven,And this happened every day, for five days in succession. I used to love it on a Friday, he’d come in with his brown pay packet,Walk in “ben” the room and asked if I checked his dunky jacket.I had to find his caddie first from a sand coloured haversack,As when I took it out to clean, the sweets were at the back. Friday nights in the winter time, as the dark nights made it cold,He’d sit and watch the news, as I stared at the cigarettes he rolled.As he put his scarf and jacket on, I tidied up all those bits,He gave that smile, flashed a “ten bob note” then went to get our fish and chips. The coach was rolling up the road, the country side was green,I remember all his little ways, he had a wee routine.When we went on day trips, he caused a lot of fuss,As he always had a “line” to put on, he was the last one on the bus. Sometimes he wouldn’t win and sometimes he won a lot,I knew when his horse came in, by extra pocket money that I got.He always got his proverbs wrong, when he tried to impress,But all the giggles around the room, god bless his happiness. All through his life he worked so hard to give us what we’ve got,I remember our first immersion heater, and our tap was always hot.A big change from the coal fire, we took turns at emptying the hearth,Freezing in the mornings and cold water for a bath. I will miss his smiling face, but his memory’s here within,This little black and white, the savior of my grin.Now we’re coming to journeys end, I recognize places where we’ve been,I regret the time I left home, and I was still a teen. I look out the coach’s window, we’re in Buchanan Street bus station,When I think back to what my da’ did and told me, it was such an education.I always wondered what more I could have had, and I know the reason why,As the yellow sun bursts the bright blue sky, on this day I say goodbye. Goodbye da’, the journeys end, I will miss your fun, love and guile,I enjoyed your trip while it lasted but I will never lose your smile.So now that you’re leaving me, a sad time when again we have to part,Now I know how you felt back then, but now you’re in my heart. Bernie Logue.