The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
Laughs from Birmingham England
Monday, 14 May 2018
Sitting on a Bench
Sitting on a Bench Part Two ©
By
Michael Casey
Part
of my new routine will be sitting on a bench, the newer bench in the
churchyard, the one in loving memory of John Thomas Beddall. I get a
rest and he gets a prayer so its a good relationship. The view from the
bench looks at the church and then beyond the high street, there is also
a splendid tree. There was talk of felling the tree to increase car
parking, the lady in the church told me she’d chain herself to the tree
should she hear any whispers from the squirrels. So there I am
undisturbed on my bench with the tree for company.
I
used to sit on a bench in Saint Phillips churchyard in Birmingham city
centre when I used to work in the city, a long time ago now. Though when
it rained I hid in the church for 3 years. I used to stand all day in
the very hot Pinsent Masons print room so a cool church with a bench to
sit on was a very good thing. And yes I prayed sometimes, God alone
knows how great my prayers were, perhaps John Thomas Beddall will let me
know when we meet in the Future.
A
bench really is a great thing, so please don’t let your local yobs
destroy any, it is a great resource which you’ll appreciate when you are
old or infirm. Besides when you are drunk or bladdered you’ll
appreciate something that is not moving. Not unless you and your
girlfriend decide on al fresco love making, a la bench.
We
have other benches in the woods, you can look out at the dip, or bowl
shape of grass below the woods from your perch on high. In the winter
kids sledge down through dog pooh on plastic bin bags or sledges. The
bench with the best view is in memory of another person, so it really is
a nice memorial. Maybe if you cremate you can leave a bench instead of a
grave and a headstone. Its a thought. To maintain a headstone can be
very expense as we have recently discovered in our family. So you could
cremate and plant a bench somewhere nice. I have asked for a bench when
I’m gone. So I can climb out my grave and have a sit and frighten
passersby. Which reminds me read The Graveyard Book.
As
you sit on your bench you can watch the world go by, you see all the
sights as they pass you and you get some fresh air too, so long as you
are not sat too close to the main road or a bus stop or crossings. There
goes the traffic wardens wrapped up against all the weather, you watch
them warming their hands on car bonnets, or rather checking how cold the
engine is and thus how long ago the driver parked. Then you smile as
drivers hurry back claiming they’ve only just popped into the pharmacy
to get medicine for their sick mum. But you saw the name of the
pharmacy, Smiling Paul’s Honest Betting Shop, but the traffic warden
lets the punter off, in exchange for a tip for the next race at Windsor.
Number 19, Harry’s Girl.
Bench
life is nice, you can even bring sandwiches to eat and a flask of tea
too. When on holiday my dad would take his false teeth out and suck them
saying. That sandwich was the best ever, mom is such a great chef, she
bought them in Tesco’s on the way to the beach in Abergele. But being on
a bench is like being on a cruise ship if uou are poor. The bench is
your floating island as people pass by. You are static but there is a
sea of people and things passing by. The Casey family are like refugees
planting themselves and their lives on a park bench.
Rain
is the enemy of bench life, so you must dash to the tea shop or chip
shop, or church should the rain fall. My dad has a handkerchief on his
bald patch to keep it dry, before it was to keep the sun away now its to
keep the raindrops keep falling on his head, he is no Sacha Distel.
In
church we read the leaflets and light a candle or too hoping the rain
will stop soon. Dad is tired so he lies down at the back of the church.
Mum says a Rosary, you get a free wish for every new church you visits
so she is blackmailing the angels and saints while dad gently reposes on
the back seat bench, a kneeling cushing as his pillow. Mum’s happy and
we are bored, there’s a bit of thunder now, so we are glad the church
stays open all day for us refugees. The skies clear and the inside of
the church brightens up, we’ll leave soon to find fish and chips for all
of us. There is one final clap of thunder from the back benches, it’s
dad’s farting as only he could. So dad leaves sniggering in search of a
toilet before chips.
And
that’s just a few memories of Park Life, or bench life, enjoy your
benches wherever you are. One day you will not be sat on a bench any
more, you will be a plaque on a bench, you will be a loving memory.
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