Agoraphobia confined him to the house,a single street and the wireworks walls,where he laboured, picking up on the solesof his shoes shiny nuggets of copper. A creature of habit, home for dinner at oneand tea at five, he exuded the tang of toiland lingering smoke of Navy Cut onhis breath and the fabric of his […]
Tag: Grandad
Grandad Davies
I will always remember Great Grandad Davies And the prickle of his moustache. He was the smell of sweet tobacco and ale. He was a waistcoat And in the pocket was a watch on a brass chain. He was the tick-tock of a clock. He was pipes lined up in a rack.
writing in north norfolk 