Britain, 2017

As usual: I work long hours to pay the childminder
Who looks after my kids so I can go out to work
To earn the money
To pay the childminder who….
I work lots of overtime to pay off my Credit Cards;
My kitchen is filled with gleaming electrical toys
A bread maker which is sometimes very good
I have food processors, a device for vacuum-sealing leftovers
And left to my own devices I probably would. I have

A juicer to get the juice from fruits which I then discard
Of course it’s always late when I get home from work

Too tired to start cooking, so I
Pass the time by flicking through my volumes of Nigella and Jamie
And Gino and Delia and Mary and Keith
While I wait for the guy from Deliveroo to bring
My supper. I’ll sit beneath the rack of pots and pans and skillets
Picking at my lonely meal of seahorse and hummingbird fillets
And wondering what colour tie to wear to work.

I love watching tennis on TV; my room is filled
With saturated green from the epic bouts on centre court
And I have a garage filled with expensive fitness gear;
Carbon-fibre racquets, designer shorts
And the latest exfoliating shower gel for men. But

When I stagger home from work
The feeble shot of short-term energy from
My isotonic protein drink allows me to grab the remote
And watch recorded highlights from each game.
If I’m lucky, my kids will ring me
Twice a month; is that too much to ask?



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