Memories of When I was Ten

Oh the excitement early morning when saddle bags were packed,

Fixed gear wheel is what we had, no fancy chainwheel and fifteen gears racked,

The bikes all cleaned and gleaming and we, so eager to go,

I tingled with excitement, to think of Snowdonia and maybe snow!



We were off! Along familiar home town roads, our uncle leading us,

We made our way along ‘A’ roads, through little towns to Bucks

Wheels spinning and mile-o-meter clicking, no digital stuff back then,

Then on to favourite ‘B’ roads which lead us West again.



Tingewick and Deddington and Bambury, that’s close and best,

Then on to Chipping Norton, to YHA, and have a good nights rest,

Reminded me of the lines I’d learned of Bambury Cross and buns,

To dream of mum’s hot dinners, of hot toast and pudding with bread crumbs.



We did our chores and then peddled on to Gloucester, further East,

We cross the Wye at Symond’s Yat and lunch, which was a feast!

I was only ten and young legs felt sore, for the miles that we had been,

Then into Wales at Monmouth, “I’m in Wales!” I was so keen.



We caught the rain but didn’t stop, out came our yellow capes,

Until we reached Abergovenny, and stopped for tea and cakes,

And pedalled on, wheels whizzing, the bikes singing their own song,

We saved our energy and rested that night, for tomorrow we had to be strong.



And into Welsh Black Mountains with hills you would not believe,

I must have shed a tear or two, but I would not concede,

Through Crickhowell and up up to Brecon,

Until Builth Wells came in sight, then we’d stop I’d recon.



Each day it was a dream for me, of place names sounding strange,

From Lldndrindod Wells in Radnor and Llangurig, where the Wye and Severn range,

Don’t forget I was a London boy and very far from home,

Peddling ever Northward, Snowdonia, our goal, we did roam.



And so we came to that mighty pass, with bracken all around,

The hill so steep, I had to walk my eyes on higher ground,

Breathing hard and legs so sore, it was all that I could bear,

There’s the top! Come on legs, two minutes and we’re there!



The view it was magnificent, it all stretched out below,

The only thing I was missing, was a carpet of white snow,

But distant vista’s stretching far, my eyes they did record,

Never to be seen in London town, I’m here! Thank the Lord!



We stopped for tea and sandwiches on top of mountain pass,

And I tucked away a memory of Wales, that would for a lifetime last,

So homeward bound by a different route, our uncle took us then,

Home! Home, to mum’s cooking and the sound of old Big Ben.