Sidekick

Yours to command

As foes are fought

Your helping hand

When 'er distraught

But "barful strife"

What makes me frown

My place in life 

- Along yet down

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Leitmotif

*Music plays with a quiet but firm start, slowly rising in tempo and volume and ending in three sharp cords*

Alright?

Wouldn’t life be excellent if it came with a soundtrack? I know you can already get a nice playlist going of your favourite songs. Joggers, runners and those of a general ‘Keep Fit’ nature will probably have an iPod crammed with suitable tracks personally selected to help them feel the burn, break through the wall and sweat profusely (possibly something by ‘Wet Wet Wet’). Similarly drivers will have their own favourite power ballads in the car to help get their motors running. Until they have kids that is when all they’ll hear for years is ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ followed by pop-pulp and boy bands.

But what I’d really like is the instrumental interludes you get in movies. The sort of tracks which don’t make it to the chart busting soundtrack. They only include several re-released classics and a least one cover by a new but forgettable vocalist - all of which may only appear for a blip of a second within the film in question. No, I want the mood setting music that happens under the main action. Not least because it would give you fair warning of what was about to happen. If it’s fast and crashy then someone’s about to start chasing you. Soft and romantic – pop in a breath mint as the big smooch is coming up. Quite and menacing - don’t open that closet door! Really, don’t! Just get a big gun ready or better still leave the house immediately and find a policeman.

Also as someone who has a terrible memory for names and faces it would be a big help if people had their own signature tunes which played as they approached you. That way you’d remember if they were someone you should either politely smile at, hug or punch in the face! (I look such a fool when I mix those up!) Better still your own tune will immediately announce your presence as you enter the room or signify your power and intent as you leave.

And so farewell…  

*Laurel and Hardy tune as we fade to black*

(Shit)

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Pointillist

I am very much a reluctant decorator. And as glasses wearer I end up literally seeing spots before my eyes whenever the roller comes out. If I were to win the lottery tomorrow before I tell my work where to stick its job I would swear never ever to touch a paint brush again. In fact let’s go further and say that if I ruled the world I'd outlaw DIY altogether. Leave it to the professionals. That’s what they’re there for after all!

Trouble is most of the time I have to do it myself (worst luck). During the ten years we spent at our last house I learnt to strip, paint, wallpaper, tile (both walls and floors), grout and fit coving. I’ve power sanded old floorboards, laid new boards and even boarded the attic. I’ve removed three fitted wardrobes and all the kitchen units before refitting new ones and a sink. And I can honestly say with hand on heart that I never enjoyed a single moment. And having moved house within the last year it’s about to start all over again!

However, the one thing I do like, which I know can drive some people potty, is putting together flat pack furniture. Whether it’s the puzzle aspect or the anal necessity of following instructions I enjoy most I don’t know. Unlike some friends of mine I can’t wait to go back to the big blue and yellow furniture fun house that rhymes with MY-KEA! It’s like being a kid again, deciding which Airfix kit to buy next. My conundrum-craving-cranium also gets a kick out of arranging how to get all the boxes into the car and still have space for a family of four.

MW and even my kids completely shun instruction booklets as though they were the work of Lucifer. Any new game, toy or appliance is simply wrenched from its packaging and fitted together however seems best. It’s only once the thing refuses to work, or refuses to stop working and is threatening the lives of the entire neighbourhood, that I am called upon to find out what the problem is. And the first stage of this recovery process is always the same - find where the instruction manual was shamefully discarded and READ IT!   

I, on the other hand, just sink into an ecstatic fugue when given something new to build. Laying out all the pieces; counting out the bits and fixings; scanning the instructions to see what lies ahead; checking tools are assembled and ready to hand; and all this before even thinking of making a start. The build then goes by in dream like dance - with a one-two-three, one-two-three, slot-A-into-B, attach-bracket-C. And when all is done and I look upon the furniture I have constructed I’ve wept, for there are no more screws to count!

So tell you what. While I’m waiting for my numbers to come up what say we do a deal. You scrape my walls and I’ll un-flatten your pack…

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Intercourse

why link
the world of birds
and bees  with
gooseberry bushy
stork-ing  babies?

there’s nothing
                      sexual
that’s not more
                      contextual

to their own love
cycle
than that of thee
or me

their thing is more to buzz
and sing as flighty friends
who chirp and sting

not ‘how’s your father’

or sportive tricks

(except of course for
 tits and pricks!)

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