Golden days

Every day was golden.

We played on disused train tracks, nettles whipping our bare legs as we ran through long grass in summer school dresses. We searched for dock leaves to stem the nag of the sting, our faces tight from the pounding sun.

Our unsupervised adventures were interrupted with the glare of the street light signalling it was time for my friends to go home for tea or face the consequences. I’d wait for them - the longest hour - on the deserted park that had, moments before, been teeming with dirty-faced kids.