The tank turn

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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