Off From Belgium 1974 Poem by Terry Collett

It was outside Bruge
in that first base camp
and Dalya said about the tents

not arriving and having to sleep
nine of us
in that cramped caravan

and no privacy.
We were in the bar
waiting for the mini-bus

driver and guide
to come and arrange
our outward bound trip

through Belgium.
She swore at him when he came
and her Glasgow accent

tore into him
but he took it in good part
and said the tents

had arrived and were
loaded on top
of the mini-bus

ready to go.
I liked her pluck
and her neat body

but didn't tell her so.
We finished our booze
and smokes and climbed

aboard the mini-bus
all nine of us.
She was next to me and Bill

and we set off on the road
with us and the load.