Dedicated to Henry George Pickard 1878-1966
My grandad lived in Dalston just up from Ridley Road
Where the market hustle-bustled and the city traffic flowed
The pub stood on the corner there where grandma fetched his beer
And we would come to visit them a dozen times a year
But the highlight of the day for me the hour spent next door
For pie and mash with liquor and sawdust on the floor
I found the visits tedious as this grey and lifeless man
Lay propped up on the pillows being cared for by my nan
A dying old night watchman was no interest to me
I prayed the visit over soon so we could go for tea
But 60 long years later with the help of my pc
I found out about Henry and the life I couldn’t see
Henry was the 2nd born of 14, Though only 6 lived to their teens. His father
was a 20-year-old cabinet maker with a teenage wife. Henry was 20 himself
when his father died, and he ran away and joined the army. Six months later
he ran away from the army. Served time for desertion. At 28 having married
his pregnant girlfriend he was back in the army for the Great War and trench
warfare on the Western Front
At Christmas 1916 his regiment was sent from France to Greece and they
joined the march from Thessaloniki to the Dova Tepe Fort fighting the
Bulgarians, then on to Macedonia where the regiment was almost wiped out.
Reassigned to Egypt they crossed Suez and through the Sinai desert. They
drove the Turks out of Palestine and Jerusalem surrendered. Finally came the
push into Jericho, Jordan, 1918 and peace. Henry came home to his wife and
his children and his father’s trade as a cabinet maker and upholsterer
He didn’t leave again for another 50 years
Propped up in bed surrounded by a thousand souvenirs
Brought back from foreign travels and from salty seaside piers
His skin was thin as paper as he lay there in the gloom
Like a tragic Mr Haversham imprisoned in his room
I never got to know him, and I found it all a bore
Till the pie and mash and liquor and the sawdust on the floor
powerful stuff...also very entertaining and yet a certain pathos
A brillant piece tinged with some sadness, Hindsight is a wonderful yet deadly thing!
Thank you for this, Martin. I didn't understand my own father until I studied WW1. It is a sad fact of life that the generations are doomed to misunderstand each other, Wonderful!
Very good indeed mate. Yes there are many misconceptions surrounding ww1, the idea it was all mud for example, the Leeds , Bradford and Accrington pals walked to slaughter on the 1st day of the Somme up slight inclines covered in waist high grass on a sunny morning. The British had 57,000 casualties of which 19,000 were killed on the 1st day, largely due to the fact that the General Staff were still stuck in the Victorian era. Haigh famously stated the machine gun, relatively new, was overrated, the axis powers did not and brought a shed-load to their trenches which were fortified for defensive war. Not that it made much difference........cos the brits had no high explosive shells,
only…
Spot on Martin. WW1 vets were even more tight lipped than were WW11 vets. Wish that we could have shown more interest and respect to WW1 vets. All I know about WW1 is what I've seen in Hollywood movies-- lots of rain and muddy trenches. Embarrassing