I doubt if anyone’s drunk from this vessel
since my father won it in 1957.
He wasn’t keen on beer,
but his tankard stayed with him
through 60 years
and two house moves,
till I claimed it at the final clearance.
Now the trophy resides on the shelf beside my desk,
liberated from a forgotten corner
of my parents’ sideboard.
‘West Midlands Gas Board Cricket Team: League Champions’
the engraved inscription reads,
but it isn’t the cricket that I remember,
more the hanging out with other kids,
packed off to watch their sporting Dads,
so ‘stay at home’ mothers could do
whatever mothers did on Saturday afternoons.
We’d sprawl in groups beyond the boundary
and chase the occasional six,
or enact a minor scuffle
before wandering off to climb trees
till sandwiches and cake appeared.
No screens or headphones to entertain us then,
little supervision or fear.
Seems incredible now,
that children were just allowed to play,
Barbara Lawton