John Fryer came to live in Cumbria as a child and spent his working life in industry before retiring in the late 90's.
A keen hill walker, he has always had a great love of the Lake District.
Currently he is working on a novel but derives much pleasure from writing poetry.
He joined the group in order to develop both his writing skills and knowledge of poetry.
Coronation Day 1953
Where did all the buses go?
On our road were tables and chairs
Home kitchens suddenly bare
Table cloths - formalised display
Most mates were on other estates
Roads, terraces or even crescents
Coronation mugs came our way
And those shiny five bob pieces
In see through plastic sleeves
Treasures to keep forever and ever
The customary white iced buns
Capped with bright red cherries
Spam sandwiches, trays of toffee
With home made crackling crisps
White church cups filled with tea
Or lemonade - if you were lucky
After a while we just sidled away
To friends in parentless places
Talking of our monetary gains
Someone sold it - straight away
Later when the buses returned
We were on the road playing again
Between grey concrete lampposts
With an old bruised tennis ball
Soaring scoring countless goals
Dodging buses - as they came
With tables and chairs repatriated
Most of us felt somewhat deflated
Her Majestys crown still on her head
When mothers called us - in for bed