To miss or not to miss?

To miss or not to miss

Somebody recently asked me, what – if anything – do I miss about the U.K.

What better way to describe my thoughts than in verse?

Thus, today’s poem is entitled:

To miss or not to miss.

I don’t miss the sound of the sirens at night. 
I don’t miss the drunkards fermenting to fight. 
I don’t miss the plague of the homeless retreats;
cardboard box shelters that litter the streets. 

I don’t miss protesting, purveyors of greed,
marching for more than they actually need. 
I don’t miss the climate, especially the rain.
I don’t miss the traffic all crammed into lanes. 

I don’t miss the prices of power and food. 
Or customer service that’s angry and rude.  
I don’t miss the roadworks, I don’t miss the crowds. 
I don’t miss cold-callers, for crying out loud?

I don’t miss the rules, growing out of control. 
I don’t miss a nation forgetting it’s old. 
I don’t miss the treatment of military vets,
who fought to defend us, oh lest we forget. 

I don’t miss the leaders of all party lines, 
who fail to keep promises, time after time. 
Hoodwink and lie to, the people they serve. 
Do you really think this is what you deserve?

That said:

I do miss the time when Great Britain was great. 
A time when the love far exceeded the hate.  
When neighbours looked out for each other’s affairs. 
When nations respected and envied our flare. 

The times when a Bobby walked down every street. 
When NHS nurses weren’t run off their feet. 
When teachers could teach without fear of recourse.  
When discipline ruled with preventative force. 

When we were an empire, not merely a spawn,
of sycophant servants to those ‘cross the pond. 
When we stood up proud and we knew who we were. 
The times when we spoke and the whole planet heard. 

Our stiff upper lips and our eloquent ways. 
Our history, our vision, our place on the stage. 
The times when we didn’t think twice about flack,
from those who’d deny us OUR Union Jack. 

One day I’ll return to my country of birth,
and hope I’ll be graced with a little more worth.
For now though, I’ll stay on my island in Greece,
eternally grateful to live life in peace. 

P. A. Davies 2023

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