I MUST GO DOWN TO THE SEA AGAIN!
Thats a fantastic poem. I must say this it is very like Masefield.Yet sea poets would most likely be influenced by the poet Masefield as he wrote the finest sea poetry. I like the narrative poem called the Dauber you have mostly likely read it.
My mate died last year. He was a Watford lad who loved Liverpool, as his first voyage as a training ships egineer was out the port of Liverpool. He told me as a young fella walking along the dock road he asked a docker where the blue Star ship he was looking for was and the docker replied 'the Star is over there and your the star thats getting on it'.
A nearly Christmas Tale (well,almost)
More than a couple of years ago ,my wife,Sue,and I were holidaying in Turkey ,in a little place called Altinkum. I was grey bearded even then and some folk said I had more than a passing resemblance to St. Nick.
One evening we went to a little restaurant in a place called Prierne ,we were sat at a table for six even though we were only two in number. As we were waiting to catch the waiters eye ,a young couple with two small children entered the dining room and as they were waiting to be seated their daughter ,a girl of about six, spotted me and rushed across the restaurant and threw her arms around my legs and hugged me, She had the loveliest smile on her face as she looked up at me. Her parents raced to pull her off but she would not let go. My wife and I were laughing like hell but the young couple were clearly embarrassed. I invited them to sit with us as their daughter was evidently not going to go without a fight. So there six of us now and we ordered our meal with the little girl sat firmly at my side.She thought I was you know who. Mum and Dad quickly got over their initial embarrassment and they told us about their special daughter,she was 7 and had slight autism which made her very determined to see any thing through to the finish. her brother ,who was two years older was a wonderfully balanced young man and was very protective of his sister. We introduced ourselves and we told each other where we were from,when we mentioned Birmingham they told us that a family in their hotel was from Birmingham and that they had two children the same ages as their own and that the daughter of the other family was autistic like their own daughter and that the son was like their soon ,a protector of his special sister. We passed an enjoyable two hours and bade them goodbye. Next day we bumped into them again and the little girl once more took command of me, so we sat and had an ice cream with them.This time they told us more of the family from Birmingham,they were from M=====m Road in Kings Heath,the boys name was Jonathan and the girls name was Maria. Dad was a carpenter and Mum worked as a dinner lady at Jonathans school and they had brought Grandma along so that she could baby sit while mum and dad went out dancing. More information than we needed to know,but it passed the time.
Scroll forward a few days and we find Sue and me relaxing on our Lilos on the beach in an adjacent bay,and there, not twenty yards away, was a family that resembled the profile of the family from Kings Heath. The boy and girl were busy digging a huge hole in the sand and they looked over at us and started whispering to each other. I tried reading my book but everytime I looked up I could see that I was under close scrutiny from the two youngsters. At length, the little girl walked slowly toward me and stood at the end of my Lilo and pronounced ,very nervously ,"My bruvver finks yew look like Farver Christmas" Her little index finger pushed against her lower lip. I lowered my book and put my finger to my pursed lips and said "Shsssh, I'm on holiday!" She blushed bright red and ran back to her brother,whispering excitedly;he dropped his spade and struutted toward me ,little chest thrust out and features flushed. "You're not Father Christmas " he proclaimed,giving me a look of defiance. I sat up and put down my book ."So, that means that you are not Jonathan, and that little girl is'nt Maria ,your sister" his jaw dropped and I went on..." so that means that your Dad is'nt a carpenter and your Mum is'nt dinner lady ,and that there old lady is'nt your Gran and you don't live in M=====m Rd. in Kings Heath in Birmingham. He was gasping "'Ow ooh ahh" his eyes like saucers and his mouth one big O. " Jonathan" I said looking over the top of my spectacles, "I am on holiday and this is a secret between Maria ,me and you " his little head was nodding frantically "You must'nt tell anyone d'you hear?" "Yes Father Christmas " he replied and he ran straight to Maria and had a hurried conflab with her and then both of them came back to us . They asked me to tell them all about Snowland and the elves and reindeer. And like an old fool I told them ,they were entranced. Each time we saw them after that they would give secret signs of recognition and beg anther story. On the last evening of our holiday ,both young families invited us to join them in a dinner farewell and I told Sue that I would tell the Kids that I had been kidding them. But when I saw their little faces that night I could'nt do it,they believed in me so much. Sue said I did the right thing,leave them with their dreams "The time they were on holiday with Santa Claus..........."