An Old Campillian’s Lament
We were recently thrilled to receive an email from ‘Old Campillian’ with a fantastic poem remembering the years he spent in Camp Hill.
Have a look at the poem below:
An Old Campillians Lament
I roamed our estate from end to end
They weren’t very many that I didn’t call a friend.
I knew you all one way or the other
Mother, father, sister, brother.
We played football, cricket and countless street games
Be you boy or girl I remember your name.
Far to many to mention or list you all here
I have carried you with me down through the years.
We really were the most fortunate few
`Cause we had the estate when it was nearly brand new.
The Pheasant, the church and the maisonettes
And part of Hillcrest that they hadn’t built yet.
Then they built them around us but we didn’t care
We just took advantage of whatever was there.
There was a bonfire to build and bonnies for scragging
And if we got caught a dad’s finger a-wagging.
We were up to no good when mooching about
So we’d just disappear at the first angry shout.
Across someone’s garden or over a wall
If you need an escape route we know them all.
We were never destructive just having fun
But if ever they chased us see how we run.
In my mind I revisit roads, avenues and drives
Where we had the good fortune to live carefree young lives.
Old friend I had who have since passed away
When next I call you’ll still come out to play.
To me they were the most wondrous times
Though I can’t do them justice in just a few lines.
Friendships through time that were beginning to fade
Upon a chance meeting are gladly re-made.
I hear they’ve demolished and torn you apart
Still the real old Camp Hill lives on in my heart.
If you have any memories, poems or photos that you would like to share with our visitors please get in touch by using our ‘Contact‘ page or call Tracey on 024 7639 9093.