Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

I am in southern France, relaxing on a balcony, skin yielding to the warmth of the sun. Spreading oozing Camembert onto fresh, crusty still-warm bread. Biting into a luscious, ripe tomato, smiling as the juice runs down my chin. A slightly chilled glass of rosé is waiting to be relished.   Sounds of distant voices, conversing harmoniously. Far enough away not to disturb the tranquillity but drifting near enough to soothe, offering the contentment of community.   My body sits in my Yorkshire garden but my mind has flown to France. And that will suffice. For now. But the time will come.     This poem is exactly 100 words long, excluding the title. It was written in response to the Captain Tom 100 Challenge, set by his family on what would have been his 101st birthday recently. It is published for 17 May, upon the further easing of lockdown measures in England.   

Oncoming cars in the middle of the road - my father dear, insurance man, to me advice bestowed: keep looking out for traffic, don’t stare at girls in woad. Damn! Oncoming bus in the middle of the road. Oncoming bus in the middle of the road - keep your brakes well serviced, make sure your speed has slowed. Concentrate that one-track mind, read the Highway Code. Cripes! Oncoming truck in the middle of the road. Oncoming truck in the middle of the road - watch how you handle that articulated load. Make sure those mounds of much are well and truly stowed. Blast! Oncoming girl in the middle of the road. Oncoming girl in the middle of the road - Elegant and fashionable, and in a bluish mode. I offer her a careful ride towards her chic abode, and now there’s children playing in the middle of the road. Oncoming child in the middle of the road - always fear an accident from any episode. Drive as if you’re going to meet a drink-fuelled Mr Toad ...