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…