Metronome

Schooldays - the best days of your life...?

George and me and Alf Hewison

slip out

of the second half

of double maths

on Saturday mornings

- Mr Hough scowls.

We go off to the music room

at the end of the hall,

and Mr Dicker -

from Shaftesbury and District Silver Band -

tells us how we should play the trombone.

Mr Dicker is as stained as an old teapot

his moustache is yellow,

his face is red and

his nose is bigger than his chin.

The edges of his ears

curl

like smoked back bacon.

You can see his string vest

through the white nylon of his shirt.

The Summer runs down his neck

into pits under his arms.

The music room is very small -

three pubescent boys,

farting down a trombone,

and an old smoker...

Aroma.

One day Mr Dicker says to me -

Give me yer 'and.

He’s been away -

What?

- but he’s back now.

Give me yer 'and.

Hospital or somewhere.

So I give the trombone to Alf

and I give my hand to

Mr Dicker.

He pulls me towards him.

He opens his jacket.

He lifts his left arm.

He guides my hand

under his armpit

- in the summer

- with the white nylon

- under his armpit.

What?

I feel it then.

Can you feel it?

Er - yes.

The lump?

I can feel the lump

through the nylon

criss-crossed with string vest.

Do you know what that is?

Er - no.

It’s me pacemaker

- battery operated

- it keeps me heart regular

- like a metronome

- can you feel it?

Oh yes.

Then George had to feel

then Alf.

After the lesson

when we’d washed

our hands

we decided he was

Mr Dicker with the Dicky Ticker.