My lovely mum (pictured as a young woman), recently went into a care home after suffering a stroke. She’s 94 now and doing OK but it’s been hard.
While visiting her, I got chatting to another resident, who suddenly started reminiscing about her first young love 70 years ago. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.
She used to sneak out of her bedroom window on Teesside when he whistled outside her house. They couldn’t stay together because he was Catholic and she was Protestant, but I found it very moving how the memory of that magical time lives on after so many years.
Every time I go into the care home now, she asks if I’ve heard anything about him. I said I’d try to find out, so any news of him would be gratefully received.
In the meantime, it’s inspired the following poem about first love:
IF YOU SEE TERRY LARKIN
1946…
If you see Terry Larkin, tell him to whistle,
When he gets to the end of our street.
Like a shot, I’ll be out through the window,
I’ll be there in a single heartbeat.
Onto the pigeon loft roof, then the dustbin,
Me dad’s sleeping and I’ve taken flight.
We can kiss in the glow of the steelworks,
Fiery sunsets pulsating each night.
If he hears any barking, tell him to stand still,
In case Rebel sets off the alarm.
I shouldn’t be out with a Catholic,
But I’m a maverick, entranced by his charm.
We’ll have to be quick in the lush grass,
It’s past nine, so I shouldn’t be gone.
We’re from opposite sides of the school fence,
So we can’t stay entwined for too long.
2026…
If you see Terry Larkin, tell him I’ve missed him.
With his blue eyes and Brylcreemed black hair.
Though I don’t have a photo to treasure,
When I drift off, his smile’s always there.
I met someone else and we married,
It was never the same but I tried.
The spark wouldn’t catch in the kindling,
Yet, with Terry, the flame never died.
So, if you see Terry Larkin, tell him to whistle,
When he’s outside this care home I’m at.
He’ll need to whistle that little bit louder,
Now my hearing aid battery’s gone flat.
You can tell him to climb up the drainpipe.
Or swing into my room from a tree.
I really don’t care how he gets here.
As long as it’s just Terry and me.
You’re the love of my life, Terry Larkin,
Though too many sunsets have passed.
Let’s hold hands and fly out of the window,
Then we’ll be together…at last.