| Gerald Bostock, fresh from school with few O-levels, sets his sights
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| No grand, fanciful fantasies but level headed middle ground
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| The retail trade, the corner shop, at humble service of plain town-folk
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| Open at nine and closed by six: enough to work, play, work around
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| Regulars drop by to chat in idle gossip, repetition
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| Same old words, another day while, all the time, life slips away
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| But slips so slowly, stretches moments into hours and hours to years
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| With characters by Harold Pinter, dark silences, slow Passion Play
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| Then home to fire up model trains and shunt and shuffle wagons, locomotive
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| breath upon his brow
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| Smooth clockwork running motors hum while barren Madge prepares hot dinner
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| Fray Bentos pie: always a winner
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| So, praise life’s routine cozy habits
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| And don’t forget to call your Mum |