My Life In Dust

Her at number 53 thinks me as some sort of lower class personage, just 'coz of what I does for my weekly wage. Whilst Rev. Kirkman says he puts me right up there on one of them pedistills like he does with our lord's boy Jesus. I thinks that it is sorts like me what this world thinks it can do without but can't. We are the shadows that no one really notices, yet every office has one or two of our likes, mollying around after hours, putting the papers in the bin, the plugs in the plug holes and changing the tea stained surfaces to look likes they been bought brand new like.

My life is one of dust, mops, vacs and all the stuffs whats used to make a midden into a marvel. Give me a grotty office and me and mine will have it back to ship shape in the time it took those office types to make a brew (and probably a watery weak one at that).

If you took the folks like me out of our daily grind; the offices, vicarages and houses of those who can would quite slowly, but surely come to a halt. Well, it's like having a bike innit. If you go a pedalling around in the muck and myre never giving it a rinse or a quick one two with a cloth, never squeezing oils into it's little chain links it would, at some point in the not too distant future just seize up. Them gears what you use to make it shift quicker (happen you need a good pair a legs un all to make it shift like them fellers of the toor der France, they are like bloody peas out of a catapult they are), any road up, if you didn't clean them they just wouldn't bloody work after a bit with all the dust, little pebbles and hair that gets caught up. So it is with everything it just starts stopping, if you get my drift. Windows become so clarted with rain stains and splodges they become nothing more than back lit pictures. Carpets without a good vaccing become dirtier and hairier than a bloody Great Dane that mucks about in a winter field. Baths what you use for making your body all pristine would end up making you grubbier after than before. You'd end up just wiping round your old skin and body dirt in hot water, more a like to trying to wash in ham and pea soup.

I would love to know where all the hair comes from. Once worked for a man who was bald as a golf ball, no hair at all, something to do with keema therapy whatever that is (he did tell me it had nothing to do with curry though, as I thought he'd just eaten too much and his hair had stuffed off), no pets, no lady friends, just him and still when I cleaned out the sink there was always a hair in it. Makes the mind boggle. Sometimes I think there is a hair imp that just buggers about flicking hair in places hair should just not be.

Next time you see them lads in the streets, on the road side picking up others rubbish or the women coming into the offices just as you are on your way out just say a quick thank you. We do our best to keep things looking nice, neat and clean. We do it because we like making the world that little bit more organised. Never think of us like her and number 53 does, and remember, the world could come to a cloggy stop if it weren't for the likes of us, our brushes, dusters and mops.

1 comment:

What do you think of this shit?