caravan holidays and long life milk,
Saturdays spent in the library
and Sunday dinners round the kitchen table.
I come from first edition Harry Potters
and my dad’s old record collection,
now gathering dust.
I come from Bristol accents,
from green walls and purple curtains,
marmite on crumpets,
the bunny fields and
evenings spent at Rosie’s house,
with hoards of comic books
and video games
I come from the responsibility of being the eldest child,
from ‘family fun time’,
from farmers and butchers
and men who deliver vegetables,
from a stay-at-home mum
and hours spent watching day-time TV.
I come from Sunday school
and library school
and school school,
from the science block
and the languages staircase
and the subway that always stank of piss.
I come from the trees at the bottom of the garden
and the victory of climbing higher than Christopher.
I come from Shania Twain
and Pink Floyd,
but mostly from Mulan and Aladdin.
I come from talking, talking, talking;
from laughter and tears,
from throwing punches
and instant regret,
from being completely unable to hold a grudge.