Dry, Non-Committal Reply

A nice, dry, non-committal reply: Och weelll now
Lassie, whether it means anything I dunno’ care,
whether I’m dead or alive, thriving or ailing for
summa’et, does not make a difference, I guess
we were meant to chew on stones and tins and
scale the mountain of accomplishment

With nary a comment, whether ye have a raw
talent is neither here nor there, it passes the
mustard and brings the pepper and throws the
thyme and din’t change a dollar a dime, I just
carry my cross stoically, chewing a stem o’
grass, scanning the horizon

Rain’s what life is about, surviving forty degrees
Celsius and that is the sum total of my existence
with reasonable feedback and a demonic lil sis
into the bargain – who can complain aboot that,
I want to know; it keeps the pot cooking, the car
idling, the sun shining, the beer brewing

The tobacco-chewing going well; the dog barking,
the cockatoo a-larking, so…

******************************************

Let me just say, Sir Simon, I imagine your ears pink
with delight when I thank you for being clever,
talented and bright; trying to see you as totally
unconcerned whether you live or die or whether
I get run over by a car and never ask for your
advice again, makes me feel too queasy

To face such a terrible prospect – I respect your
ability to sound like a great-uncle from six centuries
ago – Sir Simon Montpelier himself, to be raised
as a spectre by the great Wizard of the North,
Mug the Magnificent – but I shall always believe
that deep beneath your rocky exterior

And G’day Mate accent there is a real human spirit
alive and well and breathing with delight about the
wonder of life - no need to reply, unless you can
make it sound like a romp and a jig danced to a
tune in the mind…


Sir Simon Montpelier and Great Wizard of the
North, Mug the Magnificent: Characters in my
favourite book “Which Witch” by Eva Ibbotson