Recovered Memory

My father came back from Moscow
he'd been at a shooting tournament
flew in on a private jet courtesy of
the Olympic Committee

We met him at the airport 1971
he arrived with a friend, call me Uncle Don
I did nothing of the sort, my
uncles were Derek and Jeff

My mother was quite confused
she'd only recently passed her test but
my dad took the wheel, Don up front with him
therestofus squeezed intheback

The guns were in secure cases don't worry
they had all the permits, and it's easier coming
back via Biggin Hill where
I always looked out for the Spitfire

Call me Uncle Don Kazankin took my room,
what was going on, we stopped off in Chislehurst
waited outside a suburban house
'Stop asking questions woman!'

He was in there a long time
like his toilet breaks, which even
my father found excessive

In the car, everyone was smoking up a storm
I mean not my sister and me, she was
playing with her hand puppets
even dined at the table wearing them
drove both my parents mad, at least
they had that in common

'How long's he staying Richard?'
'As long as he bloody well wants to!'

One day he was gone and I returned
to my room which smelled of oil
my desk drawer full of peanut shells and
Uncle Don was never mentioned again