Irony…

Posted on November 25, 2017 by Sue Vincent

The morning dawned clear, it was frosty and cold
But the sun was ablaze in the sky…
I was off to my son’s with my wet weather gear,
In the hope that I’d stay warm and dry.

‘Cause I thought I’d continue from where I’d left off,
With the jet-washing, weeding and stuff,
Wasn’t long, I was cold, wet and muddy again,
Pretty soon I had had quite enough.

But I just could not face yet another wet day,
So I thought that I should persevere.
It couldn’t take that long to finish the job,
Pretty soon I would have it all clear.

The optimist hopes where the pessimist sighs
And the realist laughs in their wake,
So half a day later, I’m nowhere near done,
And I’m really beginning to ache.

I can’t feel my hands or my feet very much,
Just a tingle that borders on pain,
So I’m dreading the moment they start to warm up
And will go back to feeling again…

I think that my brain must have frozen as well,
‘Cause I can’t have been thinking quite straight
When I took a step backwards and met with thin air
And just knew… but by then it’s too late…

You see, there’s a stream that runs under the deck,
And a big hole cut out so you see
Where the water runs deep, and within it are rocks…
And on top of the rocks there was me.

Now this hole is about coffin-sized, I suppose,
And I’d told them, “You can’t put that there…
Someone’s bound to fall in…” but they said, “It looks good!
Health and safety from you? Well, that’s rare…”

I am winded and wetter and sat in this hole,
I’d gone down with a hell of a crack,
With one foot underneath and the other upstream
And a rock in the small of my back.

So I checked all the bits to make sure they still worked,
And proceded to haul myself out,
While the robins who’d followed me round all the day
Wondered what this new game was about.

By now the day’s over, the night’s drawing in
And the garden is starting to freeze;
I thought I’d been clever with wearing the boots,
But the stream had just filled them with ease…

There isn’t a dry bit of clothing at all,
But I thought to myself, what the heck…
Tomorrow I may not be moving at all…*
So I got on and finished the deck.

With teeth all a-chatter and frozen to death,
I survey with relief the job done.
And just at that moment, my pocket vibrates
With a message that’s come from my son.

Now this is the son in whose garden I work,
He for whom I now shiver and freeze…
And the irony is that he’s sent me a pic
Of him swimming in tropical seas…**

A garden they tell you is good for your health
I’m afraid that I must disagree…
His garden may be a delight for my son,
But it seems set on murdering me!

* It is now tomorrow and I was right…
**Absolutely true…perfect comic timing…

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent was a Yorkshire born writer, esoteric teacher and a Director of The Silent Eye. She was immersed in the Mysteries all her life. Sue maintained a popular blog and is co-author of The Mystical Hexagram with Dr G.M.Vasey. Sue lived in Buckinghamshire, having been stranded there due to an accident with a blindfold, a pin and a map. She had a lasting love-affair with the landscape of Albion, the hidden country of the heart. Sue  passed into spirit at the end of March 2021.
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52 Responses to Irony…

  1. Marilyn Armstrong says:
    November 25, 2017 at 06:10

    I always thought my husband was the klutziest person on earth, but honestly, I think you and he could comfortably compete. Except he did his on TV with cameras rolling and you merely write about yours online. Come to think about it, you are both stars.

    I do hope you are still in one piece!! I feel like I need pain relievers just thinking about falling in that hole.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply
    • Sue Vincent says:
      November 25, 2017 at 08:27

      I have managed a fair bit of idiocy over the years, it seems. This one was a ‘good’ one. To add insult to injury, once out of the hole, I had to kneel on the wet deck and fish the two stones out of the stream to stand them back up again. They are about two feet tall and heavy…

      Painkillers for breakfast…

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply
      • Marilyn Armstrong says:
        November 25, 2017 at 22:35

        Garry walked chest deep into the flooded Concord River. On TV. With everyone watching. including me, Owen — and pretty much everyone we knew. Owen and I were watching and I said to him “He’s going to walk into the river. I just know it.” Yup. He did. Some friendly fan gave him some dry clothing. It was March and I was hoping he wasn’t going to do a whole day reporting in sodden, icy clothing.

        Garry also broke his ankle falling out of a hammock. Not everyone can DO that you know.

        I do hope you feel better. Maybe you should … well … look more carefully before you go there? That’s what I keep telling Garry. “Sweetheart, look DOWN too!”

        Like

        Reply
        • Sue Vincent says:
          November 25, 2017 at 23:31

          I broke my ankle on the safety buffer on a trampoline… then fell off a bus on the way home from getting the cast off and broke it again… That was just before I fell off the platform shoes and broke it…. 🙂

          Liked by 1 person

          Reply
  2. ravenhawks magazine says:
    November 25, 2017 at 07:05

    Oh, my love your poetry but I hurt just thinking about your fall.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  3. Ritu says:
    November 25, 2017 at 07:36

    Oh my Sue!!! I hope you’re not too achey!
    Right. That’s it. I’m calling your sons!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  5. jenanita01 says:
    November 25, 2017 at 08:37

    There has to be a way that these jobs can be done earlier, before the weather turns nasty!
    I haven’t managed it yet either… but I’m thinking of delegating to a younger family member…

    Like

    Reply
  6. FlorenceT says:
    November 25, 2017 at 10:47

    He needs to bring home some sunshine and warmth (hugs and kisses)… Hope you feel better soon! 😚

    Like

    Reply
  7. Mary Smith says:
    November 25, 2017 at 10:53

    Ouch and more ouch! I hope everything stays frozen long enough for you to be able to move again.

    Like

    Reply
  8. Billy Ray Chitwood says:
    November 25, 2017 at 15:28

    Well done on the descriptive poem! Sorry you’re in pain…hope it passes soon. ♥

    Like

    Reply
  10. Jane Risdon says:
    November 25, 2017 at 17:19

    Really enjoyed this. You are clever, I have never been able to write poetry and admire those who can. You can. Fab. Hope your aches soon pass. xx

    Like

    Reply
  11. D. Wallace Peach says:
    November 25, 2017 at 18:39

    Ha ha ha. Oh, the irony. What a wet, cold, miserable job and then to get that photo. Lol. You’re a heroic mom, Sue.

    Like

    Reply
  12. Jennie says:
    November 25, 2017 at 18:47

    Oh, no! Join the “Klutzy Klub”. It’s my curse. I hope you are only sore!

    Like

    Reply
  14. Eliza Waters says:
    November 26, 2017 at 03:38

    Oh, dear – I hope you are recovering from your mishap. I think maybe next year you might scrub the deck in September!

    Like

    Reply
  15. Widdershins says:
    November 26, 2017 at 06:06

    And you scold the small dog for getting all wet and muddy … do you suppose this is Dog Revenge? 😀 ** quickly looks around to make sure no dogs are watching**

    So glad to hear you escaped with chilled endy-bits and bruises.

    Like

    Reply
  16. Judy E Martin says:
    November 26, 2017 at 18:35

    Oh no, you haven’t had much luck there at all! It must have hurt falling down that hole and being freezing. I saw the pic of Nick too swimming in the sea, as you say, perfect timing! 🙂

    Like

    Reply

  17. Pingback: Writing Links 11/27/17 – Where Genres Collide

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