Going to be just fine

This is a very witty poem written by Martin Silvester and it will certainly put a smile on your face, as some of it will sound familiar  …

Going to be just fine

On the day of my retirement, I turned to my wife and said,
I’m going to keep quite busy dear, not lay around in bed.
I’m going to help you with everything, you’ve always had to do,
It cannot be too difficult, I’ll even clean the loo.

Vacuum the house and make the beds, I’ll carry out each chore,
And you can put your feet up…she was shaken to the core.
The look of horror on her face, stopped me in my tracks,
Why did she look so horrified, when she could now relax?

Don’t worry dear, I said to her, We are going to be just fine,
Now where do we keep the iron…I’ll get the washing off the line!
And then I’ll do the shopping, I know just what to get,
Now where do you keep the shopping bags, blast!..the washing is still wet.

So off down to the super mart, I didn’t need a list ,
I wandered up and down the isles, a basket in my fist.
I got in the way of everyone, trawled through all the special offers,
I tried to pick the cheaper goods, why should I swell their coffers.

I wasn’t feeling happy, as I drove my car away,
DAYLIGHT ROBBERY is what I’d thought, when I had queued to pay.
How could chocolate bars and cans of beer, cost so flipping much,
But I HAD picked up that nice old man, after I’d backed into his crutch.

So I put away the shopping, made my wife a cup of tea,
And started on the ironing, where should the creases be?
But then the trouble started, as I tried to iron her bra,
And her rayon knickers shrivelled up…oops..not so good so far.

Her jeans and leggings were my next attempt, I did front knife edge creases,
But when she saw my handiwork, she just went all to pieces.
Well I’ve done my best I muttered as I backed out of the room,
It seemed my happy retirement plans, were heading for doom and gloom.

I did battle with the Hoover, dropped a toothbrush down the loo,
Tried to dust the ornaments, but stopped when I broke two.
I tumble dried my jumpers, I didn’t know that they were wool,
And I burnt out our new kettle, well…I thought that it was full.

I’m starting dinner darling, I shouted through the door,
Hurriedly washing the sausages, I’d dropped upon the floor.
I cried into the onions, peeled potatoes for the mash,
Turned up the hob to maximum, we’d have dinner in a flash.

Well I’m sure you know what happened…dishing up time came around,
The sausages were charcoal and the mash an uncooked mound.
The onions had disappeared, the gravy just a lump,
On the whole, I couldn’t blame, my wife for getting the hump.

So I went off to the chippy, got cod and chips for two,
We sat there quietly eating, and I reflected on what I knew.
I’d thought it would be easy, the things my wife had done for ever,
But one day into retirement, I’d found I’d not been clever.

So I reached across the table and I took her hand in mine,
Said please don’t worry darling..we are going to be just fine.
I really thought that I could do, the things you do each day,
And I’ve never really appreciated, what you do when I’m away.

So if you don’t mind, my angel, I’ll just let you carry on,
Doing all the things you used to do, all those times when I was gone.
I’ll still cut the grass and mend things, walk the dog and decorate,
And hope that you don’t ever-have, your OWN retirement date.

Written by: Martin Silvester