Why does Inchcock need to find Sanity?
I’ll begin by going back to my tender years
It all started around 1943,
Just born, Mid-Wife hands me bloodied to Mother, in comiti,
Mother tells the midwife, to throw it in the river, set it free,
I can’t afford it, I’m not a Charity!
Not an auspicious good start that, as you can see,
Still, she took me, dropped fag ash on my head, and not surprisingly,
I grew up scared and the first few years were hard, combatively,
Owt not locked up or tied down she’s nick, with compulsivity,
The police caught her later, a brave man that local PC!
She was a great con-woman, but they did her. The trial was a calamity!
Fined £9, Dad paid, and she walked, laughing and free,
Tried to sell my Sister to a member of the family,
But years later, she ran away after more crimes, arbitrarily,
Dad and I accepted it with the general familiarity.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Twas not hard to harness the forgettability,
Dad got me up early to make the fire, his breakfast as well,
Then, got me a paper round, morning & night with Mr Bell,
Later, a Saturday job at Heason’s Hardware… pity,
For me, anyway, life seemed like an eviternity,
Rushing from school, on my homebound journey,
But this fed my evolvability,
And to get some pennies for the gas and electricity meter,
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Sometimes I’d play-up with tantrums and hostility,
Dad would rearrange the shape, of my posterior vicinity,
His boots were leather, large and offered me lachrymosity, Hehe!
We shared all we had, although it seemed mostly paucity,
I had a new sense of upcoming insecurity,
Somehow I knew, Mother would return with her egocentricity.
The conning conceited ways and her dubiosity,
Sadly, I was right, back came the anguish and incongruity,
Dad accepted her presence, doing his duty, showing endurability!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
She nicked conned and ran-away several more times, fatuity,
I’d like to mention Dad, this brave, honest loyal entity,
After so many years, I feel felicity,
And it is all thanks to him, his lack of hostility,
His patience and fungibility,
Love, care, and indefatigability,
I’ll see you soon, Dad…
Hopefully for infinity,
Then I can find my sanity
Forgive me, please.
Yo mama (as they say around here) was one mean mother.
Ah, that she was. But she would always give you three pence of her last six pence. Trouble was she’d probably conned it off of some one else. Bless her shoplifted socks. Only joking… She was a right character and that’s for sure. On her last court case she had got most of the victims to give a character reference in Court! Brilliant con-artist! But I miss her. Ahem!
❤💛💜❤💛💜❤💛💜❤💛💜💛💜❤💛💜
I’d help, but I seem to be having trouble finding it myself!
Tsk! Innit elusive Marissa?
Hehe! XXX
You are a most interesting and wonderful person. I learn much from my visits here. Thank you.👍👊
Gone all coy now, cheers Sir.
Nice of you.
Loved your Bush graphic by the way.
TTFN
Thank you! I hope you’re having a wonderful Christmas Day. I always imagine the church bells ringing out all over Great Britain on Christmas Day!
No, afraid not Sir. The Christian Faith is dwindling over here.
I did have the noise from the ‘Herbert’ in the flat above to keep me company, though. Clunk, bang, clunk, whine, bang… Tsk!
The only people I’ve seen since being stuck in the flat for five days were two delivery chaps. But the peace had allowed me to get some odes and graphics done and generally be lazy. Hehehe!
Hope all well your end Sir.
Just a block from me is a Baptist Church which tolls the seasonal bells as well as daily caroling. I heard on the news last night that only one third of Americans identify as “religious” which is way down from previous opinion polls.
It sounds like Herbert is wearing concrete tap shoes and should give up rehearsals. As for me, a quiet Christmas is a good Christmas.
Happy New Year!
I agree with you on peaceful and quiet being good.
TTFN