by Bridie Squires
I rise to the sound of the City Ground chanting,
runs and Raleigh bike rides,
festivals and hissing geese,
rowing blokes’ megaphones,
the prickling of summer heat.
I get to the bus stop,
funds a bit low, so
I tick a quid off the shop
I clock Notts bop by,
hear cars rockin’ beats
from the cracked window
that causes all the beef.
Old biddies titter about
tram works and price drops,
we pass the back of Broado and
‘Ooh! This is my stop!’
of the jungle bus,
say ‘Cheers!’ to the driver
because we are a humble bunch.
Outside Viccy Centre,
gotta cross the road,
red man signals us to stop
but we don’t do as we’re towd.
A mum tells her kid to ‘HARK IT!’
while eating cobs on Viccy Market.
I skip the fish and buy some ham –
I get me cockles from Dave Bartram!
I make my way down Clumber Street,
shout ‘Ayup’ to maybe two or three
mates whose face I haven’t seen
I visit a few places:
The Corner, Confetti, Laser Quest, Library.
From Wilford Pond to Wollo Park,
it’s clean and it’s tidy.
The phone rings,
my mate’s been tryin’
to meet at the left lion
so we dip toes in the square’s fountain rain,
remembering the good old emo days.
We go Arb to take in the scenery,
the budding, fresh-cut greenery
packed with sounds of laughter laced
with love that comes quite easily.
We visit Forest Rec,
it’s filled with ducks and youths,
Goose Fair and the carnival
have joined to set the mood.
with toffee apples and live art,
rides and local music.
We’re churning creamy talent
so we nurture it and use it.
Even Whycliffe pops along
to sing a little tune
of how our city whispers ‘Nowt
is impossible to do.’
We make tracks to the Olde Trip,
sing songs among the caves,
when a text message shares tips
of a ‘CLIFTON TUNNEL RAVE!’
It’s the final hour of the eve,
I nip and see me mam,
drink cups of tea while eating three
Yorkshire puds with jam.
We talk brash, but warm and honest
from West Bridgford to Sherwood Forest.
From Silverdale to Hyson Green
and all the places in between,
we’ve built a city full of treats
on grounds of creativity.
For Nottingham, I’d pinch the throne
’cause there’s just no place like home.
Bridie Squires is a Nottingham enthusiast who loves to put pen to paper. As a family member of arts and culture magazine LeftLion, and of the spoken word collective Mouthy Poets, she enjoys brandishing a big gob all the same.