Dave Swakeley is Dying

By Ray Schaufeld

Mon, 23 Jan 2017
  • 2701 reads
7 comments
 

Dave Swakeley

Of the London Hillingdon Estate

Drank lager

Grew Bitter.

 

Bright lad

Full of light and life

Light feet on the field of football

Dave.

 

Dave Swakeley

Flash gear,

Rod Stewart gold cockscomb barnet*

Light feet, cocky banter

At the disco.

Pulled a few one night birds

‘they was slags.’

Met Sue

Loved Sue

Married her.

 

Dad Dave

Good Dad

Light hearted

Full of play and fun

Peek a Boo!

Throwing and catching his young ones

Into the air with care.

Big Daddy Santa with his bursting red sack

Good Dad, kind Dad

Dave.

 

Dave at work

Went to work

Worked

Came home for his tea.

Got paid.

 

Older Dave

Loved Sue

Loved his young clan

Loved the pub more.

In his sportsteevee corner

With dimpled brownfoam glass in hand

(If Sue grew bitter

She never told).

 

And now

 Dave

    Is

       dying.

 

 

When we cremate Dave Swakeley

Let us praise him too.

Old bald fat Dave

With his ill-fitting jeans

Brewery tee-shirt straining his paunch

Views and jokes as common as a London bus

​Rest in Peace

Dave Swakeley

Of the London Hillingdon Estate

And   Everyman   of   England.

 

 

 

 

 

* Barnet – London rhyming slang, Barnet Fair – hair.

Certificate PG
Poem
Talecatching
Other Fiction

Comments

Submitted by catherine poarch on

I loved this. Is he real? I loved the 'drank lager grew bitter'. I always like wondering what the child was llike with old people or what the old person will be like for the child and you've done the whole sweep of his life in a short, nail on the head space.

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Catherine, thanks for your great feedback. Dave has sat at the back of my mind for 42 years. When I was 18 I had a friend who lived in a small brick Council semi in Hillingdon in the outer 'burbs of London. I would catch the London Underground Metropolitan Line to Hillingdon station. Beneath the name Hillingdon in brackets, in smaller letters was the name (Swakeleys). Ever since I had the image of Dave Swakeley, the type of bold brash young man I was in awe of in my late teens. Sadly I only caught up with him yesterday, now I am 60.

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

I also thought you seemed to have known this man so well, though maybe it was a combination of people known over the years. But was again interested in the sweep of life depicted (by our age, you do get aware of the sweep of the years, the results of early mistakes and cynicism or jaundiced views  sometimes souring, don't you?) and showing glimpses of his faults, his downs, and his positive input and hard work, keeping going. A reminder too that death does come in the end, and brown foam can distract from praying about that. Rhiaanon

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Well Rhiannon, although Dave Swakeley is pure invention I seem to have created a credible archetype!

Work was his undoing, a working life of repetitive toil that gave him nothing in terms of interest or meaningful identity. He became sour and bitter and turned to booze for solace.

Submitted by hudsonmoon on

I knew many a Dave. Was almost a Dave myself, then I met my wife. My savior. Lovely poece, Elsie.

Rich

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

Wow! I am glad you met your saviour, Richsmiley

Submitted by celticman on

if you don't know if it's fact or fiction, then that's a good measure. Not that it matters. We're all fictional creations. Life catches us all. Death,  last and forever.