A waste of energy

By Peter Goulding

You’d come down in fine fettle

And fill up the kettle

To make one cup of tea for yourself.

With a nonchalant skill,

You’d throw bread on the grill,

With the toaster unused on the shelf.

The fridge door, then, sloppily,

Would not be shut properly

And the motor would quicken its pace,

Then you’d hit the dishwasher

And hear the suds slosh a-

-Round all of the wide open space.

You’d think it amazing

You’d no double-glazing

As the heat escaped out through the cracks.

Your electrical heater

Put pounds on the meter,

Not to mention the twelve per cent tax.

A good lagging jacket

Did not cost a packet

But your boiler stood naked and numb,

And you’d stand in the shower

For nearly an hour

And dream of the good times to come.

On standby, the telly

Still gave the grid welly

At night while you slept in your bed.

And the CFL lighting,

You did not find exciting

And you’d stick with the old bulbs, you said.

Your letter-box rattled

And fruitlessly battled

With the wind that blew up our drive way.

And I found it quite stunning

You’d leave the tap running

When brushing your teeth night and day.

You knew that your attic

Was quite problematic

With the heat seeping out through the roof.

But you simply said ‘Shag it,

Its too hard to lag it,’

And waited till you had more proof.

Oh mother, you’re old now

And feeling the cold now

And complain you’re alone and bereft.

But you know that its true, mam,

Its all down to you, mam,

That the world has no energy left.