My son and I looked at the fishpond,
“You must get that sorted,” says I.
“‘Cause the water is green,
And the fish can’t be seen,
And they need TLC or they’ll die.”
So my son took a look…it’s not easy,
‘Cause his eyesight can’t make it that far,
“We need to act fast
Or the sturgeon won’t last!
Can you get a new pump in the car?”
Now, being as I am not Samson
And the filter and pump weigh a ton,
He priced up and shivered
But got it delivered,
“We’ll just set it up and we’re done.”
Now, that’s all well and dandy in theory,
There is more to the business than that,
I sought clips and hosing
(While he sat home dozing),
Then put on my handyman’s hat.
I fitted the plugs to the wires,
And assembled the pump at first try.
The next bit meant putting
The pipes on and cutting,
“You do have a hacksaw?”says I.
He did, but I first had to find it;
It was blunt and as bent as could be.
The effort was drastic
To saw through thick plastic
And all the cuts looked like a ‘C’.
I cursed and complained and I ranted,
And, when that did no good, then I swore,
I did all the slicing
And sorted the splicing,
My fingers all battered and sore.
I hauled the stuff out to the garden,
‘Cause the pond was at last in the shade,
Then, cursing the weather,
I put it together,
And switched on the system I’d made.
I am holding my breath as it gurgles,
I look at the filter in doubt…
But a piddling leak,
That just needed a tweak,
And the water starts all churning out.
I wear many hats as a mother,
From taxi, to cook to P.A.
I’ve been electrician,
And piscine physician,
And gardener, all in one day.
The fish looked much happier later.
The results were all that we desired.
But I’d just like to say
That I dream of the day
I can say, “Sorry, son, I’m retired!”