Exciting times – left home for uni – life
Was richer; politics now red not blue.
And home had been a place of worry, sad
With Peter’s angst and illness. Trinity,
‘Old coll’, a kind of old boys’ club for sons
Of wealthy families; and yet a place
Of friendships dear and lasting. Martin, friend
For life, was found back then. Too great a load
Of studies narrowed my perspectives; not
For me the Beatles’ concerts, marching ‘gainst
The war was out. And then my brother Peter
Became a fam’ly tragedy – he died
At seventeen of illness rare, severe.
My parents shattered; I was there to help
But not enough; though I don’t know what else
I could have done. His death made life the more
To value, taste it all not pound the books
In hope of something better down the track.
Long vacs were great: hard jobs and distant hols
In foreign spots. Those rites of passage made
Us confident and tougher. Tired of work
My friend and I took off for Europe – loads
Of fun; we motorbiked the continent
Then back across from Greece to Singapore.
Boys’ own adventures made their mark on me,
Now generalist forever. Life too rich
For years and years of studies; couldn’t see
The age of gen’ralists was passing fast.