POETRY

The Tale of Ken Warden — Because We All Have a Story Worth Telling

I’ll always be grateful for my dad’s love and support and the life lessons he taught me

There once was a man by the name of Ken Who was loved and respected by family and friends He lived a good life and was fearless and bold Now it’s time at long last that his story is told

An adventurous lad, Ken enjoyed climbing trees With cousin Dave, he’d go scrambling and come home with scraped knees They’d search woods and forests for trees big and tall And only occasionally suffer a fall

On his bike, he would cycle ‘cross the land far and wide If the weather was dreadful, he’d hitchhike a ride In hostels, he stayed and met like-minded folks And they’d sit ‘round the fire sharing stories and jokes

Ken excelled at school and passed all his tests He became a fine doctor, truly one of the best At 4 a.m., he’d go out on a call, expecting a fever or perhaps a bad fall He’d feel quite frustrated when instead of these It was an ingrowing toenail or a barely scraped knee

He married Miek, a young Dutch girl and had girls one, two, three And they lived in Hove, England, in a home by the sea Then the five moved to Brighton, to a house on a hill Ken worked hard and long hours to pay all the bills

At Ashton’s Chemists, Ken’s name was revered His prescriptions were the only ones the pharmacist could read “Doctor Warden is wonderful!” I heard a customer say I was so proud of my dad while working that day

Ken read “The Times” and watched sports on TV Accompanied by a stripy pint mug of tea When his team scored a goal, we’d all laugh at his bellows And think what a funny, but lovely old fellow

Ken’s favourite foods were beer, cheese and butter And bacon and eggs, the fattier, the better! “I should go on a diet,” we oft-heard him sigh While patting his belly and eyeing a pork pie

At Sunday lunch, our dad was his best He’d set us projects and tasks, tough questions and tests For this, we’d all tease him, which he took in his stride His eyes held a twinkle while a smile he would hide

I still don’t understand why the sky looks so blue Or what makes a rainbow, or the temperature of the moon But one thing I learned, and I remember it well Is the name of the man who built the Suez Canal

Get into a discussion with Ken if you’d dare But be sure of your facts before going there You’d need many a brain cell to outwit our dad He’d discuss things until you were silly or mad On the Mastermind show, Dad got 9 out of 10 We were secretly proud of our brainy old Ken

“Broaden your horizons,” “Put your shoulder to the wheel,” “Keep your nose to the grindstone,” we’d quote him with squeals Dad encouraged us to work hard to have a choice later on None of us escaped this, not even our mum All jesting aside, we learned lots from our Pa He gave us the confidence to work hard and go far

In our green canvas ridge tent, we had the happiest times From Mullion to Marlborough to the Isle of Skye In the fiercest of storms, our old tent stood proud While the wind flattened others, ours stood out from the crowd It may not have been pretty or fancy or new But we were happy and safe and warm and dry too

At the wheel of his van, our dad ruled the road He wouldn’t even swerve for a pigeon or toad He drove through the night, in rain, snow and sleet And his skills as a driver would be hard to beat

Over thousands of miles, oh the sights we have seen From Cornwall to Scotland on many campsites we’ve been Dad drove us through Europe, North America too There’s hardly a place dad’s not travelled through

In winter, outside to the garden, we’d go Dragging our feet as our tasks, we would know “Please pick up those holly leaves, girls,” he’d suggest “Oh no!” we’d all groan, but he wouldn’t let us rest

Raking the leaves was a terrible bore And trimming the edges, an unbearable chore One thing we liked, though, was Dad’s big bonfires Our spirits would soar as the big flames leapt higher From her window, Ms. Bird complained of the smoke So our dad hosed her down, and they never again spoke

When we girls were all teens, wild parties we had Banished to the dining room with the potted plants went Dad He’d sit with dimmed lights and a whiskey or beer Rock music would boom and wild laughing he’d hear

Occasionally a friend would discover our dad And they’d sit there and chat about this and about that In the morning hung-over, we’d emerge bleary-eyed And we weren’t too impressed with the kippers Dad fried

Dad was a hero on our holiday to Spain Seven girls and six passports arrived at the plane Poor Moyra was frantic; she’d left hers in the van The fate of our holiday was down to one man

Should we all stay behind and risk missing our flight? Or leave Moyra alone to cry at her plight? Out of nowhere, a miracle appeared through the mist It was Dad in the van speeding back to assist

“It’s Dad!” we all shouted and shrieked with delight Our father’s quick thinking meant we just made our flight On that holiday to Spain, we had fun in the cottage And we toasted our dad who’d turned back at Pease Pottage

One day in Holland, with our uncle by the sea Dad made a kite out of wood, string and glee They toiled all day and launched it into the sky It flew like a dream, a crazy bird in the sky

We were proud of our dad with his big funny kite That flew upside down and looked quite a sight We helped him find string to make it fly high His arms were so tired, but his smile a mile wide We’ll always remember the fun of that day And though the photos have faded, the memory will stay

Dad worked hard through his life to provide for us all He was a tower of strength when we felt sad or small Inside that big man was a generous heart And in all of our lives, Dad played a big part

To his family and friends, our dad was a treasure The love we all had for him cannot be measured Though it’s years since he left us, we remember him with love And hope he is happy in his camper van above

In loving memory of my dad, Ken Warden 💗 December 2, 1928 — January 18, 2005

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