beancounter
Well-Known Member
The time has come, the Boat Owner said,
To speak of many things;
Of varnishing and antifoul, of anodes and O-rings
So forth he went, one December morn,
And he heeded not,
The ice and snow that lay so deep, on his beloved yacht.
Alone he went, for he had asked,
His ever-loving spouse –
Who said “Not b----y likely, it’s much warmer in the house”
At the boat yard, alone was he,
Save for one or two,
Hardy souls, pottering about, their faces turning blue
Below the boat, with fingers numb,
With spanners he did fumble.
Then stepping back, onto some ice, upon his bum did tumble.
Jobs half done, spare parts to buy,
All was getting muddled;
So in defeat, into his car, over cuppa-soup he huddled.
To the chandlery, where soon was he,
From lots of money parted.
Then did he wish, but much too late, these jobs he’d never started.
But progress made, and from his list,
He could cross a job or two
But don’t look at those still on there – so many yet to do.
The light did fail, so home he went,
A cold and weary chappie.
His wife she said “You must be mad – but at least it keeps you happy!”
The above attempt at a "pome" was inspired by spending a day at the boat between Xmas & New Year, when I had to abandon a couple of jobs due to ice & snow on the deck, and the temperature never rose above -1C.
Good fun, this boat ownership, innit?
To speak of many things;
Of varnishing and antifoul, of anodes and O-rings
So forth he went, one December morn,
And he heeded not,
The ice and snow that lay so deep, on his beloved yacht.
Alone he went, for he had asked,
His ever-loving spouse –
Who said “Not b----y likely, it’s much warmer in the house”
At the boat yard, alone was he,
Save for one or two,
Hardy souls, pottering about, their faces turning blue
Below the boat, with fingers numb,
With spanners he did fumble.
Then stepping back, onto some ice, upon his bum did tumble.
Jobs half done, spare parts to buy,
All was getting muddled;
So in defeat, into his car, over cuppa-soup he huddled.
To the chandlery, where soon was he,
From lots of money parted.
Then did he wish, but much too late, these jobs he’d never started.
But progress made, and from his list,
He could cross a job or two
But don’t look at those still on there – so many yet to do.
The light did fail, so home he went,
A cold and weary chappie.
His wife she said “You must be mad – but at least it keeps you happy!”
The above attempt at a "pome" was inspired by spending a day at the boat between Xmas & New Year, when I had to abandon a couple of jobs due to ice & snow on the deck, and the temperature never rose above -1C.
Good fun, this boat ownership, innit?
