Summer in the 1990's


Summer in the 1990’s


Sunset. Mid-July with a cloudless blue sky electric pink and flared with gold

The window frame of the caravan digs into my elbows

I lean out further

My best friend squashed against me

Side by side

Watching our dads sitting in brown and yellow-flowered deck chairs sipping beer out of clear plastic cups and smoking rollies that burned our noses and made us cough.

Later we ran between the caravans whilst the sun burned up the whole world, a brilliant orange





between each caravan

Blinding us until we stopped

Breathless, heartbeats louder in our ears than the cries of the seagulls

we sat in the dust on the kerb by the side of the road

The pavement still hot, the gravel hard

and we sat pulling dead grass from the cracks and flicking it into the road

And made up nicknames for passers-by,

Like “beachballs”, the woman with the big boobs

We sat and played games until it was almost too dark to see

We stood in line at the big white trailer that made the air smell sweet and burnt and salty and good

We bought hot dogs that burned our mouths and dropped fat and ketchup down our chins and wrists,

we ate candy floss that caught at our hair and coaxed the lazy evening wasps and those hard red candy lollipop dummies in clear cellophane that crackle and we paid with sticky coins from the pockets of jeans we’d worn for two weeks straight.

Then, with our backs to the stars, we pushed grubby fingers between the cracks in the white tarpaulin tent

and watched red-faced women and men with beer bellies smoke and drink and sway to a woman with short red hair singing

I’m walking on Sunshine 

until her voice was gone.


 Natascha Graham


I am a lesbian writer of stage, screen, fiction, poetry and non-fiction. My work has been previously selected by Cannes Film Festival, Raindance Film Festival and has been published in Acumen, Rattle, Litro, The Sheepshead Review, Every Day Fiction, Yahoo News and The Mighty to name but a few.    

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