It doesn’t matter how far away I am from whatever Hubby is painting, in the clean up stakes, I always get some on me.
Last time, a pair of joggers and a red tee-shirt ended up in the bin: the joggers because the petrol trying to get the paint off stained the fabric, and the tee-shirt because it had one dot too many.
Today was no exception as I’d kept to the other end of the boat, yet all I did was take the (closed and tied) bag containing the dirty paper off Hubby and collected his keys from the hook. By the time I got to the gantry, I had blue measles.
This (the hazards of painting) brought to mind a little ditty that, like The Dog’s Meeting, I believed had been penned by my Dad.
Again, no copyright infringement is intended, so if the true author is out there, my apologies for not giving you credit (as well as for a variance in some lines that I can’t quite fully remember).
As they say in the movies,
this is a work of fiction and any resemblance to events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
This is the tale of Sonia Snell
To whom an accident befell.
It happened one day as does to many
That Sonia wanted to spend a penny,
And so she entered with modest grace,
The properly appointed place
Where she sat in meditation
On the seat provided by the Railway Station.
But alas, she was unacquainted
That the seat was newly painted,
And so imagine her surprise
At her inability to rise.
This gave the most astonished Miss Snell
Give voice to a resounding yell,
Which brought out all the Railway staff,
Who were most polite, and didn’t laugh.
The Station Master took one glance
And quickly called an ambulance,
Which on arrival had no luck,
In freeing her, she stayed stuck!
‘Well,’ said the driver. ‘This takes all
She’s got a wooden wear-with-all.
Has anyone seen the like before?’
‘Yes,’ said a student, unashamed.
‘Frequently Sir, but never framed!’