Butlins Filey 1960 something.

The shed smells of shit

 

Its not a shed its a chalet

Its boxed happiness

Its freedom

From desolation

Its a summery

Destination

With a swimming pool

 

Full of polio

 

Cold shivering 

skinny kid

 

Its the place

We leap

Like national sheep

Laughing in unison

Drunken fornication

Shimmering castigation

We were all happy

Happy happy happy

To crowd together

Whatever the weather

Cause it was meant

As social sophistication

For a working mans

Nation

 

Yer dads having a pint

You can have a coke

Mums having a cuppa 

While she has a smoke

 

Parades and dances

Holiday romances

Tom fools prances

Late to bed

After those in red 

With painted smiles

Said welcome

And handed us 

a badge from hell

 

What else to say

I couldn’t sleep

The bed was different

And I didn’t 

like the smell.

◄ Ah' Chris mate. 8th June 1982.

Shame ►

Comments

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raypool

Thu 28th Feb 2019 21:45

Those old camps were really variants on the internment camps with a sort of circumscribed expectation; my first was in 1950, the one that appeared on Hi de Hi. There was still barbed wire and mines on the beaches. I love that line boxed happiness, A smell of disinfectant pervaded. Outside toilets with large gaps under the doors. I had constipation all the time I went to them.

Years later as a muso I often played in them. Cardboard palm trees and Lloyd loom chairs.

Excellent poem so true to life.
Ray

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Brian Maryon

Thu 28th Feb 2019 20:41

For me it was Warners on the Isle of Sheppey, and glutton for punishment we went two years on the run, me and three mates.

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