Life Is a Serious Business (3 page)

In my pursuit of Sanity!

Yes, I now know the maximum is thirty six,

But twenty four better depicts.

I had a visitor today,

He was of the accountant variety.

Now I thought accountants were sensible,

Stable sorts of fellows.

But he had a present for me,

A ticket for a flat race,

A competition! Wonderful.

Unfortunately, as the party in question

Was the stables leading light,

The odds were nearly even.

“There may be a gap in the market,” I said.

“But is there a market in the gap?”

If you wish to publish a book of verse,

You must look at its viability.

My accountants say authors are tax exempt- wonderful,

Serious poets aren't in it for the money,

So that poses absolutely no threat to me.

The publisher, he is a lovely man,

But he cannot be expected to publish it for the good of my health,

He has bills to pay.

The wholesale distributor, I haven't met him yet,

Requires a percentage of the proceeds

And the shops have to make a profit.

The old law of supply and demand applies

And it is important to market the product correctly.

Do stop me if any of this sounds even remotely familiar.

I succumb,

On second thoughts,

I think I will speak to my accountant again.

How do you cross a toll bridge with no cash?

Returning home from foreign trip,

Jet lagged,

Cannot find car in Dublin airport car park.

Ridiculous!

How could you possibly lose a bright red car in broad daylight?

Fifteen minutes later, Eureka!

It was there all the time!

Travelling home by West Link reach toll bridge,

Horrors! Swiss francs but no cash!

How do you cross a toll bridge with no cash?

Crash through barrier?

Oh act your age!

Go into the office to explain.

“Sterling?”

“No, but I have Swiss francs?”

“Sorry, the banks don't take foreign currency.”

Strange one that?

Try again,

“Credit card?”

Silly question really.

Well, how do you cross a toll bridge with no cash?

“Please leave your name and pay next time.”

Oh! Escape at last!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Going through booth,

Attractive young man with a sunny smile says,

“Are you the lady with no cash?”

“Yes” I reply, with a wave and a grin.

West Link, my friend, I owe you one.

Sad to say,

The sunny smile has gone away,

The toll booth has got the boot

And my friend, the West Link, is now mute.

Executive suit, time system, mobile phone,

Meeting over, lunchtime, return to car,

Lucky just made the meter.

Go over itinerary for Gothenburg trip, connecting flight,

Just time to return to office for urgent messages.

“Minded your car for you Missus!”

Through the car window,

A ragamuffin with a cheeky grin.

“Go away, I don't have time.”

He goes away, but glancing out the rear view mirror,

I notice an older boy approaching him, threateningly, it seems.

Second thoughts, Christian moment, get out of car.

“Do you make much money at this?” I enquire casually.

“ Sure do, I made €5.00 today,” offers the older, eating chips.

“ Me too” says the cheeky faced youngster,

“ I made €3.00.”

“ Please may I have a chip?” I ask.

“ Sure, go ahead.”

I help myself,

Surprise, delicious, Burdocks best.

“ What do you do with the money?”

Envisaging desperate need and squalor.

“ I'm saving for pocket money for my holidays”

“ Where are you going?” I enquire.

“ America.” (I'm going to Kerry)

“ We normally go to Spain.” (I go to Kerry)

Dearest friends in Kerry, please forgive.

“ But enjoyed America so much, last year we're going again.”

“ Really, but why are you not in school?”

“ It got burned down”

And then ensues the saga of the school fire,

Regaled in all its glory.

But time is marching on,

Prefabs will be in place tomorrow,

So back to school.

“ I have got to go,” I say, but here is 50cents.

No response.

“ What do you say?”

The cheeky faced one says “Thank you” with a grin.

“ And thank you for the chips” I say.

And as I walk away with a wave, I think,

Who's more attuned?

One and one is two.

I think that's true. Do you?

But sometimes I suspect, I may not be right,

Things are not always that black and white.

Take the building site domain,

It really is a most creative plain.

If I might question a bit,

How hot is it?

I don't mean to be a bother,

But it really does depend on the weather.

Temperature control is an important fact,

Otherwise it might expand or contract.

What direction is it facing?

And before you ask if I am joking,

It's the aspect you see,

Light can affect it totally.

Does anything obscure its view?

But I see I am beginning to lose you…..

Very well, let's get back to the matrix,

One and one is two. Basic!

Building sites have strict codes of dress,

Health and safety regulations, I guess.

Hard hats, high visibility jackets,

Regulation footwear are all grave matters.

Common sense prevails,

Most all the days.

But sometimes one goes amiss,

And forgets to pack the important bits.

Don't despair!

Site hut have some to spare.

Regulation footwear, mens size sevens?

No ladies sizes? Oh good heavens!

My boots are Italian leather, would they comply

Even if the stiletto heels are a little awry?

Freddie, the floor man, had just that day,

Laid the floor to allow the way,

Two planks of wood and a gap between,

Precisely to accommodate a stiletto heel.

Normally, in this domain,

One easily negotiates the terrain,

But with each step forward, I caught my heel,

And had to reverse more than proceed.

Now Biceps Bert, though focused on the job in hand,

Could multitask, most unlike a man.

He watched me renegotiate the terrain

And in a rather loud refrain,

Shouted for all to hear:

“Health and safety man's worst fear!”

Each choice we make has repercussions,

So leave the stilettos for more social functions.

There is little semblance of truth in this script,

Current health & safety regulations are far too strict.

You can't beat the classics,

I trust you agree,

I have one in my wardrobe,

That means much to me.

Now before you ask

If it's Gucci or Chanel,

I must admit,

I am a little reticent to tell.

The fabric is inherent,

Not cotton nor linen.

So I don't have to worry,

If the weather is chilly.

A classic, you may agree,

Is not dictated to by trends,

The colour is consistent,

In all its fluorescent blends.

When one enters a room,

A statement to make,

High visibility yet understated,

Is the effect to create.

One should never reinvent the wheel,

But there is always room for improvement I feel.

No pockets are a bit of a dilemma,

Where on earth do I house my tape measure?

I wonder if Armani might consider deviation

And suggest some high visibility jacket modification?

We should not hate, say the powers that be,

But I hate hats and they hate me.

I only deviate from this refrain,

When I visit a building site domain.

We have a history my hat and me,

I wasn't first choice and neither was he.

The inside section adjusts to fit,

But the outside part swivels a bit.

On building sites, one tries to impress.

But that can prove difficult when your hat's heading west.

Now people say I should purchase another,

But they come in such a limited range of colour.

Granny didn't have my problem,

She had hat pins you see,

Twenty five centimetres long

And legendary.

I wonder if Philip Tracy might assist,

What if we were to perforate it?

Building sites have very strict codes,

The deadline date is one of those.

As every sensible subcontractor knows,

Beyond that date he never goes.

Fit out reflected,

Designs selected,

Finishes chosen,

Fabrics woven,

Workroom a hive of industry,

The rest is just perfunctory.

As the deadline day approaches, I phone Norman,

The building site foreman

And ask for a time, in the deadline schedule,

The rails and curtains to assemble.

He insists “No,” but I persist,

He persists “No,” but I insist.

After much time elapse,

We have reached a serious impasse.

“Give me one concrete reason why I cannot fit!”

“Because the window will have no glass in it!”

Is nothing in life sacrosanct?

The following offering requires a little introduction.

Building sites are busy places,

Lots and lots of interesting faces,

Please permit me to introduce you to a few:

Sammy, the screed man, lays floors.

It was Monday and he was not in a good mood.

He had a silly row with his wife over the weekend

and for the life of him,

he couldn't even remember what it was about.

The row had really upset him.

Sammy is a gentle sort of fellow,

Who doesn't like confrontation.

He had a spirit level but he just couldn't focus

on the job in hand……

Now Freddy, the fan coil man, was in great form.

He was radiating at an entirely different frequency.

He had just returned from a meditation weekend and

was finally beginning to find himself.

In the greater scheme of things what matter that

he positioned

the radiators a little further out from the window

than originally intended?

Alan, the alarm box man, was in a foul humour.

Monday had really started out badly for him.

His car wouldn't start and he had to get the bus

which made him late for work and to top it all of,

it was raining.

He had to wait to find out how much the car repairs

would cost.

He was so preoccupied with his difficulties

he didn't realise he had fitted the alarm boxes outside

the window ope

and not inside, like he normally did.

Don, the duct man, installs air conditioning systems.

But you know he had worked so long in the industry

things had started to go stale for him.

He had had an opportunity to purchase a farm

in County Meath

and was waiting to hear from his bank for loan approval,

bless his innocence.