The Devil in the Diesel

'Fuel it? We're full of it!'

Tosco Petrol's happy catchphrase.

A vacant plot in Nether Podmore,

Construction site in a couple of days.

A plot that before the bulldozers,

Was known as Guthlath's Wood.

Where anyone who strayed in there,

Never came to any good.

Ancient thicket, tangled brush,

Hid a secret, ne'er to tell.

Of moonlit night, eerie fright,

A wandering lost soul's scream and yell?

But as in all good horror tales,

Morning light brings brighter thought.

A notice board proclaims the plot,

For snack shop and fuel forecourt.

Some opposed and others applauded,

The demise of Guthlath's Wood.

Some said, 'We've lost a magical place,'

Others just said, 'Good!'

But magic of ancient source,

Once hazel, ash and mistletoe.

Ripped apart by iron claw,

In vacant plot, had nowhere to go.

It waited, lurking in the soil,

Then crept into the setting mortar.

Into an unfilled diesel chamber,

Totally ignoring free air and water.

It all started off so nicely,

Decent prices on entrance sign.

Blazed numbers, big and bright,

Except the much smaller, 'point nine'.

Snack shop poster board outside,

To entice and make you feel.

That cola, crisps and chocolate,

Constitute your three-a-day, 'meal' deal.

However, the ancient magic swirled,

Coalescing as one big clump.

And bit by bit dissipated,

Through the diesel pump.

It was Steve's old Transit van,

That got the first through.

It left the scene, black smoke screen,

But that was nothing new.

Steve's dad is Chief Running Water,

And looking over garden fence.

'Here come Steve, van make rude smoke signal,

Enough to cause a big offence!'

Next was Stan Bodkin, coach loaded,

Off to Skegness for the day.

Blink of eyes then stunned surprise,

Slowly sinks in Morcambe Bay.

Council Road Sweeper to Silverstone,

Crashed the F1 racing track and soared.

Round the circuit, such a rate,

It broke the track lap record.

And Jan's little red Fiesta,

Took the last of the magic to go.

Relieved was she that fortunately,

Got permission to land at Heathrow!

The magic's gone, so too Tosco's,

Now you can safely ramble.

Across rubbly mud of Guthlath's Wood,

'Eek! What's that moving in the bramble?'