St George’s cross underground is
where I heard the sound
of the train that took me to see
granny. She met me at the station in Govan, me
being only seven. Mammy put me on the train-five stops to
Govan, and a weekend of bliss, with
granny, and auntie, who was like a big sister. The train
was always busy on a Friday, with
the shipyard workers, on their pay day. The smell of
cigarette smoke clung to my clothes,
went up my nose, making me sneeze
and almost cough. The conductor clicked my ticket;
told me my stop, just in case I missed it.
The small platform seemed so big to me,
a wee girl, skirt down to my knees.
‘You’ll grow into it,’ mammy would say as I
waited impatiently for the train to stop at
St George’s Cross to take me to
the place that I loved the most,
Drinking tea and eating toast, watching
don’t watch alone even though it was late,
and I wasn’t yet eight.
The walk to granny’s house seemed long to me then;
in fact it only took ten
minutes or less to
reach the place that I loved best
in all the world. Putting curlers in granny’s hair,
remembering as I ran up the stairs
to always end on my left foot.
Odd stairs start with the left foot,
and the right when even numbers;
The journey home was in reverse; goodbye granny
and hello mammy. I miss those journeys;
fifty three years later-no mammy or granny to visit;
I didn’t’t realise how much I would miss them.
Revised version
St George’s cross underground;
where I heard the sound
of the train that took me to see granny.
She met me at the station in Govan, me
being only seven.
Mammy put me on the train-five stops to
a weekend of bliss,
to savour granny’s kiss.
The train was busy on a Friday-
the shipyard workers, on their pay day.
The smell of cigarette smoke clung
to my clothes,
went up my nose,
making me sneeze and almost
cough.
The conductor clicked my ticket;
told me my stop, just in case I missed it.
The small platform seemed so big to me,
a wee girl, skirt down to my knees.
Those were halcyon days