Tuesday 30 September 1986

…We had to do a poem about an animal. I did the penguin:
“The penguin lives in the cold South Pole
It is never never on the dole.
They always first get shipped away
To be wrapped in paper the very same day.
They get sent to shops all around
And people eat them when they are found.
They throw the paper clean away
It may turn up another day”…

I have nothing to add.

6 thoughts on “Tuesday 30 September 1986

  1. So much more interesting to bring a brand into it though, rather than just a dull old penguin. If I’d had to write about a club of any sort, I’d have chosen the biscuit over a football one or the Derby and Joan one.

  2. The mousesnail is a funny chap.
    He swings through trees just like that.
    But one day, I have to say,
    He fell down a tree.
    Then he broke his knee.
    A big bird flew down and took him back to her nest.
    I think it’s not the best.
    Sadly he got eaten up.
    What a sad way to end it up,

    (Me at roughly the same age. I had to stand up in assembly to read it out, but because the teacher didn’t want to reveal the surrealism she’d been imparting to her class by getting us to merge animals, the “mousesnail” became “monkey”.)

    • There’s an imagination lurking in every primary school child’s mind that can be really quite creative. Unfortunately it’s one that tends to be thoroughly sabotaged by the cynicism of adolescence.

  3. I won a prize at school for a poem I wrote about the rain. I was invited, in a special ceremony, to pick my booty from a trestle table laden with items. In a fluster, I picked a card game – Lexicon. When I got home, I opened it up to discover the thing was vaguely educational and burst into tears.

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