News, events and discoveries of the Walkley Ways, Walkley Wars history project.
Walking in my battered boots up the steep steps
My mouth still tasting the sweetness of the jam and buttery bread.
My paper-thin shorts feel tight and rough, squeezing me.
The cruel ration book making me feel hungry.
As I get there, the ragman doesn’t notice me.
The liquorice smell not leaving us alone.
As I get into the classroom,
I sit on my tatty wooden desk.
‘Ouch!’ The boys getting whacked by the slipper.
As I look out of the window
All I can see is the grey smoke
Smothering the blue sky that used to be.