Western Leeds

 (Ashley Rd 1950s by Leodis net)

I was brought up in Western Leeds,

Almost two miles from the nearest cow or sheep.

In sprawling suburbs:

Row after row of smoke stained redbrick slums.

We had our fields:

Jungles of Rose Bay Willow Herb

(Fireweed to the Americans)

On former demolition sites.

Our childhood spears were honed

From fireweed spears.

Our house was in a terrace

On “School Street”,

Where we took baths in the sink

And crept to outside toilets

In the dark of the “back yard”.

Those days were punctuated

By the “Yie Yie” blare

From the local factory siren.

A deafening sound.

And by endless hammering

From the scrapyard nearby.

But we loved our dripping and bread,

And our walks to the sweet shop.

Playing hopscotch on those stone “flags”

Along the sides of the cobbled street

Under old Victorian gas lamps

Straight from Narnia.

I recall crying on our return from the coast

At a dismal scene

Of soot shrouded trains

On tortured railway lines.

But I also feel nostalgia

For those heady days

Of childhood innocence.

Wearing a cardboard box as a space suit,

And running around

During a “New Year’s Revolution”.

Happy Days.

Paul Butters