How stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me the uses of this banana, now that we no longer play strip Ludo out on the ring road traffic islands of this fair land. It seems to me there was a time, not too long ago, when you and I would ride our tandem out to the places where the wild young things cavort. There we would wantonly gambol with our Ordinance Survey maps blowing wild and free in the wind as we ran from place of special scientific interest to church without tower or steeple in pursuit of adventure and pre-packed sandwiches.
We were young then, though, and we had the thighs and, yes, the stamp collections for adventuring. I held the torch and you showed me the secrets of some of your carefully-chosen underwear and all that it could contain, while I tarried wantonly with the flask of warm tea and clutched your Rich Tea biscuits to my beating heart.
We could – if we had ever dared – gone together to go train-spotting in the dawn’s early mist-streaked light, but we knew then - even in our callow youthful folly – there are places that can never be returned from, once that initial fateful step has been taken. Therefore, we turned away to search for the cake shop of all our young dreams, instead.
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