A Busy Saturday Morning
I’ll tell you a tale of young Blatherwick,
He was the most generous of men,
Except when it came down to money,
A bit of a tight-arse was Gren.
When he was travelling with Proctor,
He’d argue for hours "who's round",
And sometimes they'd argue for such a long time,
The dreaded "last orders" would sound.
I remember on one occasion,
He’d a scheme to save him some dosh,
He’d be better off by seven and six,
By giving the windows a wash.
Don winter had plenty of ladders,
He said to Gren "be my guest",
With a shammy and suds in a bucket,
Blatherwick gave it his best.
Downstairs it wasn't a problem,
He’d soon sluiced off all the grime,
Then propping the ladder up against wall,
Blatherwick started to climb.
He washed and he scrubbed, he cleaned and he rubbed,
Gren was feeling quite chuffed,
But no one was footing the ladder,
Health and safety could go and get stuffed.
Grenville had almost finished,
The time it was ten forty two,
When the ladder being a bit wobbly it slipped,
And broke the small window in 'loo.
"F....orget it" cried Gren in a temper,
Glassworks don't close until one,
"i'll get me a bit and replace it,
And no-one will know what I’ve done."
He nipped up the ladder with measure,
Did he brace it? Indeed he did,
Eighteen and a half by seven and sixteenth,
It shouldn't cost more than a quid.
He rushed to the glassworks and got some,
He put it in car in the back,
Despite the fact he'd a blanket,
It landed on jack... with a crack.
Undaunted he returned to the counter,
And ordered the same size again,
The glazier advised him "to take much more care”,
And offered a replacement pane.
Returning back home at a nice steady pace,
As sensible people would do,
He went up the ladder and offered it up,
Sadly….the pane fell straight through.
He cleared up the mess in the toilet,
And chiselled out putty from frame,
He measured with care, cos he was aware,
He must go to the glassworks again.
The glazier appeared at the counter,
And carefully cut the new size,
Repressing the urge for a snigger,
After wiping the tears from his eyes.
He said" you'll need some putty?
I’ll sell you enough, just about,
And if you put it in properly,
It’ll stop the glass falling out."
Blatherwick put in the putty,
And pressed the glass into place,
Then he decided to put in some tacks,
To make it secure, just in case.
He wished that he hadn't bothered,
For as he put in the last tack,
On the last hit, the window it split,
To the glazier he made his way back.
The glazier greeted him like an old friend,
And couldn't conceal mirthful tears,
Replaced the glass at no charge and he said,
"It’s my best sat'day morning for years."
So, what did it cost to save seven and six?
At least a fiver I’d guess,
With petrol, glass and putty,
And time spent to clear up the mess.
So what are my memories of Grenville?
A man of distinction and class,
To put it all in a nutshell,
He was just a pane in the glass!
Lloyd Winston Watkins. Alias ‘Wocko’ . 2018
Narrated by the author at the funeral of Grenville Bendigo Blatherwick. (10th September 1935 - 16th June 2018)