Travellers' Tales No 1. The Electrician's TaleA Story by JohnLA sort of 'Canterbury Tales' brought up to date with apologies to Mr Chaucer.
Traveller’s Tales
A Foreword
Once upon a time, Great Britain had a railway and transport system worthy of a First World country. Trains ran, if not on time, not far off it and they actually co-ordinated with buses that ran on time because the word ‘service’ meant something. Enter the word COMPETITION, sub words efficiency, profit, self-financing and market forces. We were in the age of the 'yuppy' and now we have a multiplicity of companies, seemingly at odds with one another running un-coordinated road and rail systems, which crash frequently and arrive irregularly.
Thus it is that we find an unhappy group of travellers spending a night in the dirty waiting room of a London station awaiting a train that will not come for, up to now, eighteen hours, with no alternative means of reaching their destination.
Strangers to each other, they are however, a resourceful group and decide to pass the time by telling stories, as did another group long, long ago.
The Electrician's Tale
The electrician was indeed a man who knew
About such things as lamps and tape and wire.
An expert in judicious handling of
Such implements as cutter, fuse and plier.
One day a maid of greatest beauty said
‘I need someone to fix for me a light,’
He, seeing her, decided he would tread
Most carefully: 'twas love at earliest sight.
The light in question was beside her bed;
He bed and maid, was wont to juxtapose.
Within him (and 'twas not inside his head)
Great passion in its lustiest form arose.
So when new light within her boudoir shone,
With pride he called her that she should impose
Her gaze his workmanship with joy upon.
That he could fairly pluck this fulsome rose.
Her cheeks seemed flushed (the shade was palest pink)
And proud, he showed her how to switch it on,
While she, in thanks not passion - so I think,
Upon his cheek a kiss did plant - just one.
Hurrah! Cried he, for like the light, I'm on!
He'd got it wrong of course; she slapped his face,
While he stepped back in non-electric shock.
‘See here - 'tis but the first leg of the race,
You'll do far more ere berthing in my dock’
So each week there would be another socket;
The young man wired a ring main for his love.
She had him well and truly in her pocket.
He wired another on the floor above.
As neighbours will, they gossiped night and day
'How do you get this wiring work done free,
‘Oh, I have paid in full,’ the maid did say
‘These cables cost me my virginity.’ JLB
© 2008 JohnLFeatured Review
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Added on July 20, 2008AuthorJohnLWirral Peninsula, United KingdomAboutI live in England, and love the English countryside, the music of Elgar and Holst which describes it so beautifully and the poetry of John Clare, the 'peasant poet' and Gerard Manley Hopkins, which d.. more..Writing
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