Moving into the Nineties

This poem describes Frank Ashen's move from Buckhurst hill to Norfolk (from Cousin Gillian again!)

MOVING INTO THE NINETIES

After forty-one years
getting to know number five
I thought it was time
to make a new life.

 The reason was plain.
There was nothing to gain
from waiting at spots
aptly described as bus stops.
No corner shop handy, the one-seven-nine
was proving to be an uncertain lifeline.

From a peaceful existence
where I was the king,
to estate agents, solicitors, oh dear,
was I doing the right thing?
Anticipation, expectation, frustration
became part of every day.
I wondered, is it worth it?
corner shops, bus stops, or nay.

 I very soon found
the real size of my task.
To attempt this alone
was too much to ask.
Happily the family were soon on the scene
to guide, and sometimes to push,
with a shove in between.

 From Elbury to Sheringham
for a closer watch on Holt.
But delays on the site, oooh!
More frustration, I wanted to bolt.
Gradually things changed as activity grew.
The whole project took on
a more pleasing hue.

Now things are fixed for the moving day.
Curtains, carpets, are all on the way.
Like all fairy stories,
it ends right, so it seems.
Happy ever after – well anyone can dream!

       Frank L Ashen

P.S.

At ninety-one I should have done
my usual birthday verse.
But moving house has brought to mind
matters for attention of a different kind.
When I am settled – all in good time,
let’s hope I’ll write a better rhyme.


Gillian's mother Vera, Frank Ashen, and my cousin Gillian at Sheringham in November 2000


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