Christmas is over and the last guests have left Bard Towers. As in many households up and down the country, the remnants of the season’s festivities lay discarded behind the sofa; torn wrapping paper, a half-eaten mince pie, a crumbly dog poo and an unsavoury looking canapé! Following the final departure the silence is deafening. As Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers should have sung: “Guests made this a Christmas to remember…”
The turkey carcass lies abandoned,
Grandad snoring mouth agape,
Men are smoking in the garden,
From the washing-up escape!
Extra chairs from absent neighbours,
Grandma ate upon her lap,
Check that Grandpa is still breathing,
Yes he is! Thank Heavens for that!
Darren’s sitting very carefully,
His worried face shows signs of fear,
Been to the toilet many times,
Scoffed those sweets from North Korea!
The kids are rioting in the bedroom,
They are leaping on the beds,
One is tied up to the headboard,
Tantrums and cola without the meds!
Someone’s shaver has gone missing,
The bathroom’s in very thick fog,
Kevin’s toothbrush has gone missing,
I saw it used upon a dog!
A ragtag army goes out walking,
Shouted at by farmer-with-sheep,
Returning back all cobwebs blown-out,
Find that Grandad’s still asleep!
Seven dogs have started fighting,
Aunty’s Peke is on the top,
All the kids have learnt new language,
As adults try to make them stop!
In the kitchen war is raging,
Turkey carcass on the floor,
The hostess shouting at her husband:
“Can’t stand your family any more!”
At that moment front door opens,
Uncle Bernard, parked nearby,
All the kids instantly scatter,
“Bad-breath-Bernard” they all cry!
Doreen has a screaming baby,
Her partner is ‘away’ this year,
She is soon going to visit,
He’s in Parkhurst for shifting ‘gear’!
Someone produces an obscure bottle,
Aunty Flo is filled with life,
Within the hour she’s drunkenly singing,
Uncle Bob ignores his wife!
Pete is sleeping on the sofa,
Along with a girl he brought called Sam,
The resultant moanings are suggestive,
That they will, they do, they can!
Tuesday comes the house is silent,
They’ve all gone and left today,
Every room is strangely silent
‘Come next year – we’ll be away!’
FOR THE RECORD:
This verse and the people portrayed within are pure fiction and bear no relation whatsover to the wonderful guests we had to stay over the Christmas period. BB.
© Baldock Bard 2016
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Many years ago when I worked on a dairy farm, the cowman, Sam, told me that on a ‘proper farm’, the cowman had the softest hands! Of course his idea of a ‘proper farm’ included animals and in particular cows. Every day he used udder cream on the cows udders and, by default, on his hands with remarkable results. This Christmas, a friend obviously thought I needed to pay some attention to my hands and gave me some Farmers Hand Cream, a chance to be a proper farmer…
