Botch Job

Garden fencing
Ageing woodwork
Down comes the fence post
On a cold winter’s day
Sent out to repair it
With red hands
And blue notes
Patched up
Lashed up
Botched-up repairs

First day of sunshine
Sent to have another go
Drill bits
Rawl plugs
New screws and old
Ugly repair job
Patched up
Lashed up
Botched-up repairs

Were he still alive, my Dad’s Dad would have been proud of this one. A notorious botcher, he fashioned the ideal (for him) lifestyle accompaniment from an orange box, plywood, screws and nails.

A footstool-cum-occasional-table, its four sides held his betting slips, racing tips, pools coupons and newspaper as well as being a handy place to rest a cuppa. Splinters and gaudy fruit trademarks were the real drawbacks. But he was happy with it.

I can’t really say the same for my botch job – 8 different screw types, restraining stays which neither match nor fit and none of which are quite true. The old man’s genes have reached through time. But he’d have a good chuckle at a proper botch job.