Tag Archives: John Lennon

Sad Anniversary; War Isn’t Over

8 Dec

Can you believe it’s the thirtieth anniversary of John Lennon’s death?  It was one of those moments you remember where you were when you heard it. 

I heard it on the radio before school; probably on Terry Wogan because my Mum liked him.  I met a friend on the way to school and it was all we talked about; he was a massive Beatles fan.  We were having a bad winter and the snow was the thickest I’ve seen it until January just gone.

Where were you when you heard the news?

So This Is What Ungrateful Feels Like

14 Oct
Angry rabbits always attack first

Image by id-iom via Flickr

 

I’m getting them for nothing; I shouldn’t complain, but I am sick to death of the kitchen and bathroom refurbishment.  The work has been going on since September 23rd.  It should have been September 22nd but they were running a little behind. 

That was the first clue that I should have stuck with my forty-year old cabinets.  Better the cupboard you know.

Since that date, workmen have been in and out of my house, leaving the door open for opportunist thieves and letting the cold in; drinking my tea; not cleaning up after themselves.  I’ve had kitchen necessaries in my lounge and kitchen extras in every bedroom and a stonking great fridge freezer blocking my front door for three weeks.

Men come, look around, go away again.  Other men give me dates and no-one shows up.  Anonymous vans deliver wallpaper and plumbing supplies that stand around for days, gathering dust and my impotent rage.  The rubbish that the men do clear up stands uncollected outside my house, a prey to foxes, because half-eaten sandwiches go in the bags as well.  I’ve got nothing against foxes except that, like council workmen, they don’t clear up after themselves.

We were promised that this week the tiling and decorating would be done, and the shower fitted.  Monday, the tilers came in, drew in a long breath and said they couldn’t tile because there was a tiny hole that I couldn’t see that needed plastering; then went away again.  The plasterer came, filled the hole, and went away again.  The tilers tiled. 

Tuesday, the decorators came, stripped the paper, drew in a long breath and went away again because there were holes underneath that the plasterer etc., etc.  The plasterer came in the afternoon and plastered.  This was his third time here as he had plastered prior to the cabinet fitting.  As we are as good as related by now, I joined him via my leftover birthday wine.  I don’t know why, but suddenly it was all so much easier.

The decorators came back yesterday morning and papered, then went away again because – draw a long breath – it wasn’t their job to paint. 

This morning, Paul the person in charge knocked to tell me that I was down to have my floors done today.  This is the same Paul who told me on Monday that my floors would not be done until the decorating was finished.  Phrases using words like ‘elbows’, and vulgar alternatives to the human posterior spring to mind.

While all this is going on, I have been shuttling kitchen necessaries such as kettles and microwaves from kitchen to lounge to kitchen again.

On top of all that, we are going camping on Sunday.  Twelve years without a family holiday and we opt for one that has us living with a kitchen-come-lounge for a week.  Somebody, please – pass me the wine.  I need to get plastered.

*

The prompt for Carry on Tuesday was to use the words, ‘Close your eyes, have no fear’ from John Lennon’s song, Beautiful Boy.  I only have one thing on my mind, so here it is:

A Bit Of A Carry On

Close your eyes; have no fear:
the end’s almost here.
Fitting & tiling & joinery’s done;
wallpaper is up; painting’s to come.
Add a new shower and two shiny floors:
A beautiful kitchen (and bathroom) is yours.

*

Coincidentally, I wrote this one yesterday:

Lines On A Refurbishment 

At present, my writing life’s quite unexciting.
I shouldn’t be bitching, I have a new kitchen.

I just can’t write in a mess, I guess.

Writer’s Island Prompt Number 9

26 Jun

I Don’t Recall

I never had a flirty day in Frodsham
with an owner of the red album.
I did not visit the Everyman;
never got free tickets;
could not have attended
the last-night cast party
or met the beautiful half-Greek
love child of a boxing legend.
I don’t recall a walk to school;
a white December day;
a shocked discussion;
a cute boy in a trendy coat.

No mad man.
No bullets.
Imagine:
no John Lennon.
I can’t.

*

The prompt was ‘Imagine’. I imagine many of the Islanders will immediately hear the Lennon song, just as I did. I thought about the funny ways music and musicians touch our lives though we never meet, and remembered moments from my own life that would not have happened if Lennon had never existed.

The visit to the Everyman in Liverpool was to see a play about Lennon’s life.

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