The fish and chip man
calls on Tuesdays. Pizza
on Saturdays. Vans park
on a reinforced circle
by the recreation ground
as folk queue. The clue’s
in the name, ‘the tank turn’,
only relic from eighty years
ago when the village was
a military training ground.
Nissen huts everywhere,
soldiers marching, top brass
in the big house, village hall dances
on a Saturday night. Few years
of pandemonium. Hard to imagine
now, as convoys of timber lorries
and tractors follow the hourly
double-decker bus to Newcastle.
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