PROSE POETRY

Carpenter?

Who me?

Five years boy and man after leaving school with carpentry tools in me hands earning a living. Then a few more years after working at home and odd jobs for anyone else who dared, while working as a high steel roofer.

I was a very average carpenter, firstly repairing school furniture on a government shafting scheme for the unemployed. “Ooh, big money we would remark.” At least it kept us off the streets and out of a sticky bag of glue.

Natural progression saw second fixing doors windows, shelves, skirting; oh just look around, yes now, all that kind of woodwork stuff laid out before your eyes, aye the work one takes for granted, plus a few roofs to throw into the mix, no not like a brickies mortar mix, that’s bricks!

I will never forget the day my chippy boss, (carpentry boss) big Pete, took me to one side and asked me;

“what do you want to do in life, James? Because it’s obvious your mind is not on the job.”

I dared not tell him I wanted to play the drums for a living. Yeah, you can imagine the reply.

“Well go and make some bloody drums then!”

James G Brennan. 2021.

Thank you, ScienceDuuude for giving my words a platform. 🙏 Thank you all for reading and your precious time. Always. J. 🙏✨