Saturday 13 May 2017

The Thunder, A Desk and a Phone Call.

in my tummy/mainly

Did you hear the thunder?

Not a rumble; maybe it was the cat.

Cats don’t rumble.

This one does.

No it doesn’t.

It does.


Oh, come on you can do better than that.



The tree fell down.

Are you sure?

Yes, oh, no, it’s my eyes; I haven’t got my lenses in/on. It’s grown a lot though.

Trees will do that.

Talking of trees, what about this desk?

What a bout it?

It’s a mess!

I’ve started to clear it!

Started?!! That was months ago!

Can’t be.

Can! Hang on!! I can check.


I’ll speak to Bob!

How will that help?

It’ll be in The Archives.

Ha! Fat chance him finding anything in The Archives; he can’t even find his wife.

Because she’s an identical twin! He never knows if she is she or her.

Go ahead if you want to waste your time, phone him.

Drrrrrring,  drrrrrrinnnnnng….

Hi Bob, how’s things?
Up to my neck in boxes.
Ah, that’s exactly what I was calling about. Can you give me a date for the bit about clearing the desk?
26 September, last year.
Take your time, there's no hurry.
13.18 pm.
Modified the following day at 10.34 am.
That’s amazing Bob, how much do we pay you?
Gathering dust ever since.
The document?
My fees.
There’s a carriage in the sidings. All kitted out as a guest room. It’s got a wood burning stove and desk that looks across the lake to the mountains.
Perfect. How’s the wife?
We got divorced, I think, it might have been her sister though.
Ms Penny?
Happy as a troll.
Could you fax me a copy of the document?
Do you have a fax?
Hang on, do we have a fax?
We’ve got an answer phone.
I’ll use a pigeon.
Anything else?
Send me a box of Edinburgh Rock if it’s a big pigeon .
I’ll use the Eagle. Be seeing you.
Next year. Bye.



(The following was formerly published in The Archives - editor)

Ok, I really need to sort out this desk; I’ve been living outside for five or sixth months and it has gotten – all by itself evidently – into a right un-royal mess.

I don’t know how it does it, but it’s done it before!

There’s a cat for a start! Can’t be having that there!

She’s sleeping on my shirt!

That shouldn’t be there either – hang on, I’ll hang one of them up and drape the other on the back of the settee.

Ok, four pairs of socks! Four!

Only one is mine.

One pair that is, not one…. white with a London underground line system pattern.


There’s a pile of money - unfortunately it’s a pile of money, not notes. I had to raid my piggy bank and it turned out my piggy bank only contained centimes.

A pile of centimes… hang on.

Rattle, rattle.

Papers, papers, papers…. file away.

Rustle, rustle.    
Next? Five books. Two I’ve read, one I haven’t, one I will never – it’s not even mine – and one a reference book that should be in the drawer. So- back in the drawer, one on someone’s bed, that leaves three. Ok, one on my bed and the other two? The swap cupboard in the village?

Not this one, I want to read this again, and my daughter might like this one.

So – two on her bed then.

An unopened packet of football team themed paper serviettes! Hmm, I meant to take them to that barbeque back in…when was it? June?

Ok, kitchen I suppose – hang on! Another book!!. Ah, special one. It’s been read, reread, read again and will be read again next summer, so… a special place.

Two squashed rusty bottle tops. Hmm. I’ve got more of these… some are in the car, some on top of the fridge and they all go in that project that’s brewing somewhere in my thoughts. Should I put them in the bow of uncrushed ones that is part of a different unformulated project?

Better not.

No comments: