Ninety-Five
Received from my cousin Gillian
NINETY FIVE
Miscellany
No longer am
I an Essex man
now Norfolk
by adoption.
Essex may be
very glad or even sad,
but Norfolk
had no option.
I once wrote
with understanding
of the chap
up on the landing
who didn’t
know if he was going up or down.
Now I have
no landing but a better understanding
of the
foibles that bring misting
to the
windows of the mind.
Eleven years
ago I received a MENSA award.
Today alas
that is all going by the board.
Although I’m
getting podgy and eyesight more dodgy
I can still
count on my fingers up to ten.
IQ gone for
a burton does it mean for certain
I’m a late
developer in the digital age?
Maybe second
childhood would suggest a new tutor,
extending
knowledge via a simple computer.
But with
modems and software it’s a safe bet
I would
quickly be trawled up in the dot com net.
So it seems
without doubt computers are out.
When I get
to ten I must start all again.
Myriads of
little ads. confront us with persistence.
Stair lifts,
armchairs, various baths offering assistance.
An idea
struck me for an ad. to beat the lot.
Picture
Victor Meldrew on an adjustable bed,
trapped in
extreme contortions it must be said,
heading “I
don’t believe it” (No creative payment please)
I’ll settle
for a percentage of repeat fees.
Could I now
join this gravy train?
Not while I
have the horse’s collar for my neck pain.
One thing
that gives me comfort alright is having
Amy at my
bedside through the night.
In case I
give the wrong idea I hasten to make it clear,
Amy is the
official name of the pendant button on its chain
that keeps
me in contact as I roam
from my
alarm telephone!
www.E&OE
Whoops!! For Amy read Amie
Frank L Ashen
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