BANK HOLIDAY JOLLITY

09-07-2007

Does this sound like Your Bank Holiday? The Stirrer's resident poet Brendan Hawthorne with a DIY verse that can't wait for Tuesday to come around.

Cases packed to catch-cracking capacity

with all-season coveralls

slung restlessly into the hatch

onto back seats or secreted

in boot-space hide-aways

In readiness for the overnight haul

the beach at breakfast trek

or in preparation for the early start

the no snivels, get in and shut up approach

The bleary-eyed make their way to

overpriced retreats and find themselves

in an overcrowded haven

have their own little patch to

relax in and put their feet up

stretching their wallets, purses and

bank accounts to break-point

The stay-at-homes however

raid their sheds and clear rust

from winter redundant tools

and then cuss the creator

for the lack of maintainance and

head for the local ring-road DIY store

Those palaces of probability and dreams

where the bearer seeks potential glory or

at least the chance of becoming

the orator of a rather amusing

on ten bottles of cheap export

post-barbeque story

fit for a television disaster

fly-on-the-wall documentary

before food poisoning bites from

the insides of raw sausages

Then and only then when

the last caravan bends over the

coned-off slip road the next procession begins

The in-store bank holiday project shopper

appears as the next wave breaks

Flat packs stacked on weighed down suspension

grinding rubber on wheel arch

with windows down supporting extrusions

prodding unwary pedestrians and cyclists

imprisoning squashed-in-the-back passengers

who helpfully call out comments of

‘may as well queue for the missing parts now

and save going back tomorrow'

In the suburban garden

the noise is unbearable

Masonry drills whine on dry bearings

scorch across engineering brick

before snapping like brittle twigs to

the grunts and groans of sedentary workers

partaking in manual labour

to the apparent lack of taste

coming from next door's disco

Buzz saws attack overgrown

thickets and strimmers hover

over neglected lawns and hedges

as background hum is enveloped

by the sounds of cruising soft tops

Roll back coupes doing the boom-bass stomp

along litter-lined streets

piloted by club-class regulars

and crisis-torn execs

with nail-down toupes

living through the last roll of macho status

with a penchant for fur trimmed dice

Tempers snap like puppies

and children cry with boredom

Parents argue over brand names

as the weekend simmers away

and interest wanes

and ring pulls get torn back

as garages get filled with

have-a-go day left-overs

as weekenders return

to their fragile bubble

as the cat throws up on the new sofa

and a bottle of red empties itself

over the barleycorn shag-pile carpet

as Tuesday appears

looming large through

burger and beer overdoses

and returning to work

feels like meeting an old friend again

when we can all return to a version of normal

knowing where we are

and who we are

and what we do

back to the comfort zone

Leaving slanting shelves

half finished wardrobes

patched up pipe work

and kitchen re-fits behind

‘til the next time and

we sigh with relief knowing

that we can tell everyone

what a wonderful time we've had

just being ourselves!

Copyright Brendan Hawthorne 2007