Our grandparents purchased these houses (sturdy and strong) during the inter-war years

Followed by our parents in the austere grey days of the fifties

By the time we came of age our houses were considered old but comfortable

But we loved them without qualification even though they cried out for change

The railway station was within ten minutes walk and you were safe at night every night

There were tennis courts nearby and shops to satisfy every need

These were our halcyon days when life was easy and the future was just another country

But then life changed and we found responsibilities of our own

We began planning ahead Michael and Tina and little Ben

Yet our little suburban houses were no longer cheap and within our grasp

So we had to rent and try to save against a moving market

Prices rose faster in suburbia than elsewhere as people were attracted to their locations

We moved away from our roots for many years but we were not strangers

As mums and dads and our friends were still to be found within a dozen streets

The tennis courts were still there but Sue Foskett-Jones no longer played Miss Iris Crawford

For she was now five years dead some say of a broken heart

But I knew that she had drowned in a cool mountain stream

Indeed Sue does not live in avenue anymore as she retired to leafy Bournemouth some ten years ago

Where she still lives with her cats and toy dogs three and four

I do not recognise the shops of my past anymore

It seems that newsagents and greengrocers have ceased to exist

And have been replaced by estate agents and takeaways and charity shops

Neither do I recognise the people passing me in the street which is a little sad

And yes I still miss my small suburban home as I walk along my pebbled beach

I miss the love and the familiarity of my childhood years ( it was the bubble that never burst)

But at least I was not there when the slow plague suddenly struck and changed things forever