My dad looked out the front door for the paperboy -
He'd been up since six thirty -
It comes from the Navy he said -
Last night he'd told me about sleeping in his hammock on board The Duke of York -
Chaps put up their hammocks anywhere they could - some slept on the mess room cushions, under the tables -
I imagined my dad glimpsing the bright Carribean through a porthole -
The grey ship was anchored off a beach of white sand - jewelled fish swam through coral -
Sometimes my dad would sing the calypsos he'd heard on the fragrant island -
When the Saturday Times arrived, he arranged all of its sections upon the other armchair -
The day started to revolve within its inexorable grooves -
10.00
Saturday 2 May 2015
Staunton Road
Havant
Hampshire
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