A long weekend is always fraught, with lots of drinks (or so we’re taught). The north east coast gets filled with sand all with wind blast gales spill pint in hand.
Employed or no the bars are full, the cafes bright the weather dull, the revels spill out into the street, the police patrols on constant beat.
The aged teens look on with hope, their days have gone they used to cope, with beer aplenty mixed with a shot, but now they have their wife and tot.
The next young breed are coming up, with glassy eyes and smiles they sup, another drink is all they need, well that and of course a line of speed.
I’m not saying drugs were sacrosanct, but I always got myself well tanked, I never touched a joint nor pill, I knew that they would make me ill.
But riding round the coast today, has filled my heart up with dismay, with family time, that’s all the rage, the young drunks read from a different page.
It’s quiet, nice and filled with folk, they laugh and smile and grin and joke, no drunks fall over out the pubs, no pissed up songs, now there’s the rub!
Remember when we used to meet, at half past ten just up the street and start our day with shots or beer, by four o’clock I’m turning queer.
Away to bed i’de had enough, I can’t take one more drink of stuff, my eyes glazed past, my stomach churns, my throat with indigestion burns.
I ride ‘Big Red’ and watch the day, with envious eyes I look away, have I grown up, I dread to think! I know I’m not allowed to drink.
So tea will do, I don’t miss drink, I don’t miss puking in the sink, I don’t miss waking with bad head, I don’t miss lying late in bed.
I don’t miss the smell of beer, I don’t miss mates saying I’m queer, I don’t miss bailing just after tea, I just don’t miss that other me!
So yes, I think I’m getting on, NOT growing up, that would be wrong. My goals have changed from days gone by even though sometimes I sit and cry 😦