Some days are not to be remembered

Some days are not to be remembered

Not everything is worth the trouble

Of recall

A blind man drills a hole in the wall

That awful jagged high-pitched sound

That cuts right through

Like going to the dentist

When I was a boy

And he (it was always a man in those days) shoved a rubber mask

Over my face

Asked me to breathe in and count backwards

Down from ten

I could have thrown up then

But always did it later

I can’t remember how far back I counted

But the dreams were always wild

At least I hope that is all they were

People are not always what you

Would want them to be

The blinds will not fit themselves

I hope all the noise is worthwhile

As this is the second time he has

Been to fit them

On the first occasion

He blamed the man who had come

To measure up

For making a mistake

I think we both knew that he had

Forgotten all the parts

But I was too polite to say so

There were two of him the other day

And now he has shrunk in upon himself

I think that might make life a little more

Complicated

But I can’t get too bent out of shape

Over the reduction

At least he moved the sofa

He said he had broken one today, already

Blind men are never in the shade

Until the job is completed

The time was, they always had a mate

To hold the ladder steady

Clean up once the work was done

They even wore white gloves

Brought dust sheets, carried a hoover

They still do if they come from Harrods

But Knightsbridge is a long way from here

And the last time I was there,

Well, that is a wholly different story