That Christmas

That was the year I drove down from the city

past the scented gardens and the ornate brick fence

the open stocked fields and the sun shimmers

and you were there, with cuffed trousers and an open shirt:

you said how hot it was and then you snapped open the case:

Let’s have a beer, you said, and you levered out a flagon;

you poured barely-cool draught into little tin cups and the

condensation ran down the sides and over our fingers.

We waited for the guests and before we heard the Holden draw up

we were one flagon down and the sun had let the smell of peaches

escape and, well, it was pretty near perfect

6 Responsesso far.

  1. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    I mean ‘loved’… can’t figure out how to edit a comment after posting.

  2. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    Beautifully put, John, the taste stays with us all your days. Lived the smell of peach ‘escaping’, the guests not yet arrived….

  3. john keast john keast says:

    Yes, late 70s.
    I remember, still, the taste of that beer.
    Thanks, dean

  4. Dean English Dean English says:

    I’ve had to take my gloves off and use my fingers… I meant it has a strong 70’s feel

  5. Dean English Dean English says:

    it’s feel… damn voice to text

  6. Dean English Dean English says:

    hi john i love the closing lines starting fron the holden caught a very 17th feel for me

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