Each morning, I walk to Waitrose - my dad wakes up very early, remembering perhaps, when he was on The Duke of York jumping out of his hammock, wiry and full of dreams -
I'm getting familiar now, with the sights of Havant High Street -
There's McDonalds, there are the boarded up shops, there's Boots -
Portly gaffers pass me on their mobility scooters - young mums smoke outside Costas -
At last, I'm in Waitrose, buying Aunt Bessie's finest cod in breadcrumbs and oven ready chips -
It seems that I've been here a long time -
10.15
June 5 2014
Havant
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