by Roland Gardner | Jul 27, 2008 | Stories
When I was a lad, (how often have we heard that phrase from our elders and betters), my heroes were not those of my peers. My mates spoke in hushed tones of Tommy Lawton, Nat Lofthouse, Johnny Haynes and, of course, the incomparable Stan Matthews. Not that I disliked...
by Roland Gardner | Jan 1, 2008 | Poetry
The young man spun his wheels again, And black smoke rose like soot, For 1600 big CCs, Lay waiting ‘neath his foot. The young lad grinned at the old man, Who’d never know the thrill, Of a head to head on the 229, Or a ton down Bluebell Hill. The old man grinned right...
