TEA AT THE RITZ WITH MAUD AND BEATRICE

 

Our husbands died some time ago, one stroke, one heart-attack,

And inflation stole our pensions several years back.

Our houses in Cheltenham cost far too much to run,

So we passed them to our children – as suggested by my son.

 

Now living with our daughters in Pinner and Ealing

We try to preserve that Cheltenham feeling

By meeting each week at The Ritz Hotel

Where the Englishness and Earl Grey suit us well.

 

And sitting for an hour over stone-cold tea

We talk of the times when, as Maudie and Bea,

There was tennis and dancing and trips to the sea

And Cheltenham whirled around Maudie and me.

 

And we know, though we won’t say it as we sit here alone,

That a bedsit in a daughter’s house will never be a home.