by Frank Lloyd
It’s nigh on ten years since we recycled Grandad.
It’s what he wanted, it was his way.
We planted him under a willow
So he could be out with the catkins in May.
Now Grandad could recycle anything;
There’s nothing he couldn’t unknot or unknit.
He turned cats’ whiskers into radios,
And built a steam liner from an origami kit.
He were taught during the War
Working part-time on the red salvage cart
By Fitz, a factory fitter from Fenton
Who’d turned tin bashing into an art.
One day a telegram from Sir Winnie
Came whistling through the letter flap:
“Ernie, we’re bang out of air-eo plane metal,
Could you make us some kites out a scrap?
“This is Old England’s darkest hour;
We’ve a battle for Britain to win.”
In reply Grandad knocked up a Spitfire
From a family size baked bean tin.
Now then, to show that Grandad’s story
Is not just to be told with sandwiches and ale,
There’s added an epilogue of glory
That gives a certain twist to the tale.
When they cut down Grandad’s willow for a bypass
There were nowt of the owd chap to be found.
What worms hadn’t turned him into compost
Th’ catkins had taken out of the ground.
Now Grandad is a posh wicker chair in a Chelsea flat
He’s aspirins in pharmacies in East Cheam,
He’s the binding on a moping lover’s hat
And he bats for the England cricket team.
(Copyright Frank Lloyd, 2026)
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NOTES:
The author is based in Staffordshire.
Willow plants contain salicylic acid, whose pain relief properties were recorded 4,000 years ago. Right at the end of the 1800s aspirin was made.
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