In memoriam - Marina Pavilion

There was a time, in eighty-four

           We used to come down to the sea

           To sup a pint or cup of tea

On Sunday afternoons, what's more

The Marina Cafe may not have been

           A tourist high-spot but at least

           Its sandwiches could be a feast

For hungry trippers who were keen

To try the sands or rifle-range,

           A dip with knitted swimming costume

           Huddled up because there's not room

Under the towel for two to change.

But now this grey-glass box has slinked

           Into its place with iron spikes

           And keep-out signs, which we dislike

For all we wanted was a drink.

The cracks and patches are the same

           The thirties mosaics don't quite match

           The concrete and the pebble dash

But they would do for us who came

To ask for simple things to eat

           A cup of tea, a piece of cake

           A coffee or a juice, to slake

A thirst brought on by summer's heat.

It's not to be, we turn away,

           The carvery's beyond our purse

           And anyway it might be worse

Than letting Hannah have her say

And walking back along the parade

           Into the town for fish & chips

           Avoiding the one-up-manship

Which doesn't seem to want our trade.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 5.10.22