In the early rising dawn

When I wore shorts all the year round

And winter was just another blister

On the sole of life

The world in which we lived

Ate dressed and walked was

Mainly black or white

With just a few shades in between

The people

The buildings

The cars and the streets

Were all a dirty shade of brown and grey

There was of course the odd exception

Like something out of time

A bus, a tram or a train

But even they looked tired forlorn and filthy

In varying shades of green, brown and cream

Everywhere marked with a ring of soot, smoke and steam

Men delivered sacks of back breaking nutty slack

Shovelled broken and pummelled

Offered up to the hungry fire

Their backs bent with years of lifting

Half a hundred weight

Sometimes wet and steamy

Hissing cracking

Oval black nuts

 

In winter men in long khaki coloured coats

Where rain would eventually soak through

And become a heavy soggy dripping mess

Topped off by a Windsor, flat or bowler hat

Brollies only for the sophisticate or city gent

Pinstriped sparkling fresh and clean

To the office on the seven twenty three

 

And in the heat for those who could afford it

White flannels

Always rolled up sleeves

Any other way would seem undressed

All of this and more was how it was

Until winter turned to summer

In an effervescent explosion of bloom

And of colour

In an effort to hang loose and turn on

The sun and love were apparently born

And grey and brown

Became a purple haze