The Very Idea

Edwardian London, a horse-drawn pantechnicon
Piled high with tea chests, my grandfather’s brainwave.
Came down from Lancashire seeking his fortune
Pavements of Walthamstow, tea dust not gold dust.

Blue anchor Yard railway arches were stables
Just North of the Tower Bridge, still a great wonder.
Drivers and coopers recycled the tea chests
Out with the lining, bent nails to be hammered in.

Filtered of splinters, tea for the family
Taken in houses of increasing opulence
Moved from the East End to leafier Chingford
Home for ten children, close to the forest.

Turn again, Thomas, your profit from cubism
Purveyor of tea chests to importing tradesmen
Shrewd, kindly Methodist, pillar of chapel
Eldest son lost eleven weeks before Armistice.

Bowler hat portrait with silvery moustache
Stands on his chiffonier by green china art pot
These my inheritance from his idea
[With Mother’s advantage of good education].