Poetry Pleases: Bank Holiday
Mike Eastwood's poem could not be more topical as we raise our umbrellas today on yet another rain-splashed Bank Holiday weekend in Britain.
Why does it rain on Bank Holiday?
Is it penance for being so bad
Sometimes it snows or is blowing a gale
Or it seemed so when I was a lad
We’d start on the Sunday School outing
With sandwiches packed in a box
But by lunchtime were soaking and sodden
Sometimes right down to our socks
But the best part was sheltering in woodland
Hiding in pairs from the rain
When we’d try for a kiss and a cuddle
But most of the time ‘twas in vain
Except the day Carol was with us
She was some years older than me
She’d grown up in all the right places
And had bits we all wanted to see
I remember that Whitsuntide outing
When it rained, Quite according to plan
We left all the others at lunchtime
And I grew from a boy to a man
I was glad that it rained that Bank Holiday
I’ll remember it all of my life
It’s a tale I don’t tell to most people
Particularly not to my wife.
