My Favourite Things

My likes have changed with time and fortune.

A question of where I’m at and how I feel.

Eating Tournedo steak in the Operakällaren

might not quite compare with meeting some fellas in

the Pig and Whistle of the Rhodesia Castle;

these stewards were sickening, the Swedish meals supreme.

I learnt from both of them, they being at two extremes.

 

But let me go to childhood thoughts, childhood books and childhood rhymes;

times when I loved to play in the wind and run in the rain,

or chase the sea and roll in the mud or lie in the sun.

Time to find things out; find myself and reach the day when I’m able to say

“I disagree. That’s not for me” and make a stance.

There was always the chance, I suppose, that I’d fall for love

like all boys do as they shove their clumsy way to adulthood.

 

As a young man, music and sport held the day.

I loved to play in orchestras and bands in Scotland, England

and foreign lands. Eventually I went abroad to live and

teach my scant experience of life and English to foreign kids.

Being abroad is being alone, like playing trombone in a string quartet.

Yet, I learnt what made me tick and how to deal with loneliness,

how to stand above the rest and how to fall in love.

 

Now here I am, an oldish man but still with favourite things

that have changed a bit as I now sit and get around in a wheelchair.

I wear the pants with workmen here so my strength is clear to them.

I play with words, I bluff my way through maths tuition but in addition,

as it were, I think my favourite thing is that much-practiced skill

of drinking wine until all around are drunk and talking stupidly.

Then off to bed I slink, with help of course but rapidly.