Top
title
Visitors
 
div
 

THE DAY THAT JIM PAINTED HIS WINDOW
by
C. A. Dickens

It were late in September, last August
At almost a quarter past two.
When Jim got a case of the fidgets,
'Cause he had got nothin' to do.

Jim were an active old bugger
Moving around. on the go.
He always had to do summat,
He couldn't sit still for a 'mo!

Now Jim had a fair reputation
For fixing things. when they were broke
He loved it when folks brought him problems,
'Cause he were that kind of a bloke.

He loved a good challenge to test him
And mainly he'd do it for t'fun
He'd get stuck in, when the experts
Announced "that it could not be done"

He'd take on all sorts of daft projects
But he wouldn't charge you a fee.
He just liked to bathe in the glory
So apart from that; it were free.

Now, this day (for some unknown reason),
Jim was not feeling too bright.
But was not aware; it were one o' those days:
When nothing was going to go right.

Jim was bored out of his trolley
And hoping that someone would call
Wi' summat that they needed fixing.
But no-one came round, .. not at all.

So then Jim decided. he'd have to
Create a few jobs of his own.
An' get his-sen summat exciting to do;
It were boring just sat on his own.

He nearly got started on t'garden
He even had hold of a rake;
When his eye caught the sight of a window.
Where t'paint were beginning to flake.

Now Jim were a tidy old fella
Who liked everything in its place.
An' the sight of this messy old paintwork
To Jim, was a shameful disgrace.

Ha ha! chortled Jim, Now I've got you!
His face came alight with a smile.
I'll get that job sorted this instant.
An have summat to do for a while.

Discarding the rake, for the moment,
He sped off to look in the shed.
For blowlamps and scrapers and paintbrush
The excitement had gone to his head.

Despite being tidy, in general
He wasn't when storing his tools
An' kept losing the things that he needed
And just didn't stick to the rules

Soon he were a' cursin' and swearin'
His mind had gone right off its track
Giving some other poor bugger the blame
For "taking, .and not bringing back."

But he knew in his heart it were pointless,
as he regained his composure, and then;
Started to think where he used 'em before,
He'd no-one to blame, but him-sen.

So he took all the stuff out the garage
And laid it all out on the ground
To sort in an orderly fashion
And could not believe what he found.

As he studied each drawer and each toolbox
For items that should not be there
He put them all back where they should be;
With extreme and infinite care.

With everything tidy and back in its place
He stood and admired his work
Having his workshop so spotless
Jim felt; was a really good perk

He'd found all the tools that he needed
So he picked up the blowlamp and stuff
To start burning off the old paintwork
And smoothing down all of the rough.

A ladder was needed to reach it
'Cause the window was over the door
But as soon as he had ascended.
He dropped half his tools on the floor.

So back down the ladder he clambered
And just for a moment he stopped
And while he were there; lit his blowlamp
And picked up the stuff he had dropped

He got to the top of the ladder
And thought how he'd get on with ease.
But as soon as he started to burn off the paint
The blowlamp blew out in the breeze

He reached in his pocket for t'lighter
But nowhere could it be found
And as he looked down in frustration
He saw it, .below, .. On the ground.

So back down the ladder he trundled
He fetched it. Then climbed up again.
Then spotted the scraper was missing
He knew that he'd had it. but when?

So once more dismounted the ladder
He scanned all around and stood still.
Then glancing back up at the window...
The scraper was up on the sill.

Back up the ladder he travelled
Assured he was fully equipped
But just as he arrived at the summit
He lost his composure and slipped.

He grabbed at the ladder to save him
From falling and breaking his neck
But all of his tools went airborne
And fell back down onto the deck.

Now seething, Jim once more descended
Back down the ladder, and then
Gathering all of his tools up
He went up the ladder AGAIN!

Taking deep breaths in to soothe him
He whistled, then started to sing
Bust as soon as he lit up his blowlamp
The telephone started to ring

I do not believe it, Jim snorted
He laughed, but with no sign of mirth
And gritting his teeth he started to climb
Back down the ladder to earth.

When Jim picked the phone up to answer
He heard a voice, merry and bright;
Offering new double glazed windows
They were "working his area, that night"

It took all his patience resisting
An answer profane and profound
But glancing outside at the ladder,
Said. Sod it! ...When can you come round?

 
div
Top
 
Return to
' VISITORS SHOWCASE '
Menu
 
div
 
Monologues Home
Music Hall Home
The Forum
Pencil Portraits
Pedro Postcards
Amazon Store
 
div
 
CDCD
 
 
 
 
div
Bottom