We travelled in convoy,
Battered mini-buses crammed with the noise of youth,
With excitement and petty jealousies.
The school trip would last a week
And would change my life forever.
A castle in looming,dripping Wales,
Our home to be and destination.
Once King John's hunting lodge,
Now a youth hostel modelled on Colditz.
In that week I discovered girls could chase boys.
Not then the inaccessible creatures
Of my imagination, but predators
Seemingly fascinated by my silent rejections.
I had to be silent,
For I did not yet know how to play the game.
Courtship ritual; that intricate minefield
Promising passion or humiliation.
In my mind, fear battered temptation into submission.
And so instead I played the fool,
Getting myself into trouble
The result of my childish games.
Strange to say, now twenty years on
I'm still playing them.