Goodnight Sweetheart

It was about six weeks ago, maybe more
I fell out of a boozer on the Kings Road
and landed slap bang back in 1944

I was doing a bit of moonlighting
said I’d been working away
became a double agent for forever and a day

and I no longer lived in the prison of my heart
at the check point to the past
I got friendly with the guard

and bedded over a hundred women
with nylons and sugar
had a near miss with my future grandmother

and home on leave I tore up Soho
a joyful Stanley Holloway stamped my passport
Pimlico

held up a post office with my finger and thumb
claimed to have written everything
by Thom Gunn

and oh what a lovely war
I became a conscientious objector
and placed sure fire bets on the score

and just like Grandad
I never spoke about what went on
it’s not like I ever actually killed anyone

it was only a dream in time
and I was Nicolas Lyndhurst not Marty McFly
so you can imagine my surprise

when rifling through the miscellaneous drawer
I find a jubilee tin of photos labelled spring ‘44
and one of me in full uniform, the day I left

laughing carefree at Nan’s back door
lest we forget.