I remember the grey slithers of rain,

The jocular driver,

As I boarded the bus

At Temple Meads,

And the friendly lady who told me

When we had arrived at the city centre,

I remember the pub on King Street,

With its quiet maritime atmosphere…

I remember tramping to the little cottage

Where I had decided to stay

Between rehearsals,

Along Park Street,

Whiteladies Road and Blackboy Hill,

My arms and hands,

Aching from my bags,

I remember the grey slithers of rain…