Not Happy About The Title

14-10-2014 Tuesday

Sometimes I think of the time Mum and Dad were still together. I guess their marriage was never really meant to be. And their friends and relatives must have seen the divorce coming from miles away. Even though their breaking up was really hard and Mum and I had a really difficult time afterwards, I think, in hindsight, it was for the best and we were much better off that way. Mum certainly was, after she had gotten over the divorce she seemed reborn and she was full of joie de vivre which is French and basically translates into ‘Look How Many Fs I give!’.
When I look back at their marriage I remember some moments that I could and should have seen things were not really right. Here’s a poem I wrote thinking of that day that Mum, Dad and I were going to the circus and we were running a little late. I didn’t really mind so much, but Mum and Dad were fussing and fighting all the way to the circus and when we arrived we still had plenty of time to get popcorn and drinks, find our seats, sit down and relax for a couple of minutes. They really needed to be more Buddhist about these things. So here is what I wrote down. The names are not really part of the poem, but I put them in there as to make it clear to everybody who said what and the ‘fat lady’ is not Mum (she wasn’t really happy about the title).

The Fat Lady Sings

Mum,‘ Can we get there in time?’
Dad,‘ You’re asking me now!?
‘Why, sure, dear.’ he answers,
‘but I don’t know how.’

Mum,‘ If we get there in time
We’ll see cannonballs flying
Hear elephants’ trumpets
See a mime that is crying.’

Dad,‘ The night is still young, dear.’

Dad,‘ We should get there in time,
So there’s no need to shout.
We’ll see lions jump rope
If tonight’s not sold out.’

Mum,‘ Will we get there in time
To see clowns and their gags
With funny red noses
And crappy old bags?’

Dad,‘ The night is still young, dear.’

Mum,‘ We must get there in time
Toute le monde will be there
To hear the band play
And breathe in fresh air.’

Dad,‘ We’ll get there in time
To see old men cry
Hear the fat lady sing
See red roses fly.’

Dad,’ The night is still young, dear!’

I’m sorry I haven’t been able to write a lot these two days, because I am a bit caught up in other things and I haven’t even got a clue what kind of things actually take up all my time. I turn round and when I turn back again it’s half past one in the morning and I need to go to bed, because another day of work awaits me. By the way I work at a small bookshop called Koreander and I more or less run the whole business as my employer is mostly out to lunch. The word boss, by the way, is actually more appropriate here, but I try to refrain from using it as it has such bad connotations. So whenever I write employer you can read the word boss instead. Guess who has to open up the shop tomorrow morning? We don’t open up too early, but I have got to go over the orders, call the customers to let them know orders have arrived and all that while my employer is … out to lunch.
So, I’m going to have to leave you already, but I bet there’s time tomorrow between 12.00 and 12.05 (my lunch break) to write a paragraph, if I’m lucky. See me tomorrow.

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