My tather walks with suitable aplomb

into the premises of G A Dunn

to select a tweed of autumn hue

for winter journeys to Waterloo.


Although this takes place on the other side

he still maintains a sense of pride

returning to shops he favoured when

I was around the age of ten.


As I awake the image fades,

outside I see the autumn shades,

will dress myself to face the day

in present form not fade away.








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Thu 5th Sep 2019 10:56

Thanks Jennifer! That all makes sense of course. A trap was a fanciful term for the necessity to conform which he happily complied with. The phrase stuck in the past comes to mind but then we all have our favourites. He never wore jeans and mum never wore trousers!


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jennifer Malden

Wed 4th Sep 2019 19:35

great poem Ray. Would you really say it was 'a trap' to think about what one wore? Things were different way back, and one was supposed to always be 'suitably' dressed. You had to have different clothes for London and the country Now thank God one can go almost anywhere with a pair of jeans. Much less timeconsuming and expensive!


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Sun 25th Aug 2019 16:56

Thanks Lisa. It's nice that you dropped by.

Thanks Devon for getting this - my father like a lot of his time was caught in the trap of dressing wisely for public transport and also to not stint on his clothes. Life was often divided into classes which were readily apparent from dress codes. I'm so glad it related to your own experience of a past family connection!

Also nice to see you around Kate, thanks.


Devon Brock

Fri 23rd Aug 2019 23:47


This is a beautiful remembrance in it's simplicity and brevity. It makes me think of my haberdasher dad and his suits, ties, shoes and such, but not in sad way. More in the sense of what has been passed on from father to son. That even in the mundane habit of dressing in the morning, a legacy manifests itself. Thank you so much for this poem.


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Lisa C Bassignani

Fri 23rd Aug 2019 23:23

Another gem Ray

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