BACK FROM THE BRINK or 'EXCUSES, EXCUSES’ by Penny Dolan

So much for September’s ambitions and hopes! 

Three days into the month and my hard drive crashed and died. With no warning, no nothing, and the desktop machine was ‘definitely dead, all right.’

My once trusted computer needed a whole new tower. We took the dead box to our reliable technology company who would find and supply a compatible machine. Great! But there would be a wait, as their annual holiday shut-down started the next day. Okay-ish. Two weeks later, they rang: the new machine was ready for collection. We sped to the site and brought the new box home. 

But - a big but - the empty machine needed to be refilled. Aaagh! With what? What data had I had stored on my computer? What was my visual memory of the screen? What did I actually do, any more?  

Gradually, images came back. I remembered this and that. The old data was transferred from backup discs stored away in a dark, dark cupboard. A few days later, my new machine was alive again. Even better, there was a recent version of my endless tome, thanks to my personal IT resource team. All was well and working again. So here I am again. Me and the machine.

But what is more important is that the ‘definitely dead’ quote that jumped into my mind, as familiar poetry often does, comes from a ‘conversation’ piece by poet Gareth Owen which John Foster, another poet, often performed. and included in his popular poetry anthologies. ‘Blenkinsop’ as it became known, worked well with older primary pupils back when I did school visits, although the lines might not fit the context of 2025 school or home life, or more modern values. What do you think?

I am posting the full poem here – with its real title - to remind you that Thursday 2nd October will be National Poetry Day 2025, and a good day for enjoying your own favourite poems and poets. 

There’s no excuse now, is there?

EXCUSES, EXCUSES by Gareth Owen

Late again, Blenkinsop?
What’s the excuse this time?
Not my fault, sir.
Who’s fault is it then?
Grandma’s, sir.
Grandma’s? What did she do?
She died, sir.
Died?
She’s seriously dead alright, sir.
That makes four grandmothers this term, Blenkinsop?
And all on PE days.
I know. It’s very upsetting, sir.
How many grandmothers have you got, Blenkinsop?
Grandmothers, sir? None, sir.
You said you had four.
All dead, sir.


And what about yesterday Blenkinsop?
What about yesterday, sir?
You were absent yesterday.
That was the dentist, sir.
The dentist died?
No sir. My teeth, sir.
You missed the maths test, Blenkinsop!
I’d been looking forward to it, sir.


Right, line up for PE.
Can’t, sir.
No such word as “can’t” Blenkinsop
No kit, sir.
Where is it?
Home, sir.
What’s it doing at home?
Not ironed, sir.

Couldn’t you iron it?
Can’t, sir.
Why not?
Bad hand, sir.
Who usually does it?
Grandma, sir.
Why couldn’t she do it?
Dead, sir.

. . . . . . . .

 

Thank you, Gareth Owen!

Penny Dolan