It’s Time… Pt36
Written by Prim on 23/12/2022
But it’s Gonna be… Good
‘Get off you horse and drink some milk’
‘John Wayne feeling the festive spirit’
Postie Prim and his Black & White dog bit: Milk
Apples in my belly, by Jiminy have they kept the Dr. Away. Who knew the Dr. was a green grocer!
Who uses the word green grocer anymore?
Rich in fibre and busting with antioxidants, the Dr. Says apples are good for you too. Dr. Says, who? All these full stops are confusing, period. I know all the grunting derived from apple-eating keeps your seat warm on a cold winter’s day.
This has no direction, turn back while you can
The weather turned. I ran out of apples. The snow melted. I got sick as a dog, which in my case is Cherry, which are also rich in oxidants, great for deterring the gout, which I got two fold, being so cold. Mein fattenfunfeet, the feet… flip-flops the size of bouncy castles. Cherry (the dog) is not technically an antioxidant though in many cases she/ they can be. Dogs are all-knowing, good for wrestling, chasing, gnarling and comfort. Coughing up half a lung up on my route this week, a passing lady looked on in disgust as opposed to a rallying concern. Her dog shied its ridgeback fur with embarrassment and de-ridged itself.
help me now
Ye Gods the fever. Freezing days and sweating nights. Dreams bubbling in delirium’s psychoactive mind-bend. So vivid and real all the naked receptionists at the Doctors and all so normal. It all got very weird for a couple of days. Cold and sweat ramshackling the bones and shivering the timber. Now, I grind to the stone of work’s Christmas rush to get His majesty’s Royal Mail through dosed on painkillers and grit. The weather turns warm, but the timber still shivers. Then Terry Hall dies and all is sad. Still we get some great tunes and anecdotes on the wireless. Boy the humble postie grafts hard over Christmas.
i have nothing to say
On the winter solstice the sun hung low. An old fella at No.1a, there are so many ‘a’s’ and ‘b’s sometimes ‘c’ and rarely a 13 up t’ north, but this old fella was a gem, opened the door dishevelled and unshaven looking like that British comedy actor’s dad from the film Party Party who’s aftershave smells of horses. He did too, but gallop to the door did he as I shoved his only Christmas card through and he grinned like Cheshire Cat at the Doctors saying ‘You want a biscuit’ holding out a box of assorted chocolate wraps. Legend. ‘Go on, have a couple’. On the radio is playing Otis Redding and Carla Thomas’ Tramp… ‘You probably haven’t even got 25 cents…’
I took one, a Blue Ribbon, put it in my pocket and carried on my yomp. Mental note, add pickled walnuts to my Christmas food shopping list.
Simple human kindness is a wonderful thing. It’s also ok to Grinch it, if that’s your gig, but genuine goodwill does seem to fit around Christmas better. Now Cherry, go eat that snooty cough lady and let’s go home.
In other news: I’ll go back and give that old fella a copy of Durban’s Bread, that’ll take his grin off.
Till next time f-f-f-folks… keep ‘em peeled
Pip pip, ding-dong and ticketyboo
Keep it turning, keep it wheel
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