DREAMING GARDEN CRICKET...

Dreaming Garden Cricket…

The childhood back garden

In summer, surely;

Cricket with a soft rubbery ball,

Crude wooden stumps leaning

On brick below the kitchen window,

Then my dad appeared along the hall…

He was towelling his wiry hair-

Lux Flakes, probably…

His silhouette worried me still;

A brother, no doubt Elfyn, was batting

And I bowled my underarm spinners,

Hoping my sibling’s bails would spill…

My daughter and son were on the lawn,

Inexplicably;

She bounced a ball off his head…

I took the bat, my brother was bowling,

I whacked the ball well past him,

Deep into my father’s beloved flower bed…

I rushed for four quick runs,

Quite desperately;

Then I attempted one quick single,

Before a full-toss was sent thumping,

So that running and waking became inextricably mingled…

Pete Ray

March 2017

Recent dream about playing cricket in my dad’s garden, with Elfyn, my colleague from our Sarehole Mill teaching days. 

He was my brother in the dream, probably as a result of acting as my brother in World War Two teaching sessions at Birmingham Museum.

He knocked my underarm spinners about, then I had a go at his overarm deliveries.

My daughter Lucy threw a soft ball against her brother’s head on the lawn, who seemed about three years old in the dream.

He was probably displeased…

No change there. 

My dad had been told by a policy-holder on his insurance round that washing the hair with Lux Flakes would prevent hair-loss. 

Yeah, right… 

FINDING THE KEY TO A PUBLIC BOMB SHELTER...

SINGING 'WHITE CHRISTMAS' LIVE...

IN FULL VOICE...

DUET...

STUFFING A DOLL INTO A BABY'S GAS MASK: NOT EASY...

MORE CROONING...

ELFYN & ME: BROTHERS AT WORK...