For George, the best godson in the very long history of godsons
On the occasion of Michael and Andrea’s wedding

I went to my auntie’s last weekend
‘cos my cousin got married you see
that isn’t as odd or as strange as it sounds
‘cos he’s quite a bit older than me

In the garden they had a contraption
for torturing boys of my size
It looked like a table with mats on
and springs all attached at the sides

In the middle the surface was rubber
It was flat and looked stable to me
I turned and I smiled to my brudder
His eyes glinted malevolently

“It’s a trampoline George” said my brother
but I couldn’t quite fathom his meaning
I knew perfectly well how to trample
but I’d never done trampling whilst leaning

Now let me put this in perspective
I’m one and a bit, nearly two
Imagine my horror when Mummy elected
to join in with torturing me too

She lifted me onto the surface
It seemed to be soft under bum
I stood up (I’m getting quite good at that now)
and I started to walk towards Mum

Imagine my shock when the rubber
Gave way when I started to walk
and then shot up and launched me right into the sky
like a blond haired blue eyed champagne cork

But gravity’s no laughing matter
It brought me back down to the mat
before flipping me up like a coin being tossed
I went base over apex and then Splat!

When the bouncing stopped I was erratic
I walked like Dad’s Wonston Arms friend
And the rubber had filled me with static
and my hair was all standing on end