Rodney Dale

I flee from CAMBRIDGE quickly as I can,

For every time I go, or so it seems,

More crossings, white-marked lines and closed-off roads

Appear, to mar the CAMBRIDGE of my youth.

And so I take the B ten-forty-nine

To HISTON, crossing o’er the A14

(Confusion; ’twas the old A45),

And then traverse the bypass railway bridge —

Which opened as the railway under closed —

Negotiate more sets of traffic lights . . .

And thence to COTTENHAM, where recently

Humps, bumps, chicanes and mini-roundabouts

Have sprouted. ‘Traffic calming’ is the game —

The traffic may be calm; the drivers aren’t.

I leave behind that COTTENHAM awkwardness

And find at last that rare and open road

Called TWENTYPENCE. Across the fens and drains,

Rise to WILBURTON as my spirit soars.

Turn left, and but a mile further still

Find peace at home in HADDENHAM ON THE HILL.