The Oldie competition no 154 Dry and Wet by 24th August
 

I've been hearing from US friends about the very hot summer. (I can't even remember what those last three words mean.)
After several months of torrential, incessant, depressing rain in the UK - Hey! We get to write a poem about... water. Lovely :)

Jayne

COMPETITION NO 154

In whisky, in the washing-machine, in your wellingtons, in the sea under a hot sun, dripping through the roof – water seems very different at different times.
So a poem, please, called Dry and Wet on one aspect of water. Maximum 16 lines.

Entries to ‘Competition 154’ by post (The Oldie, 65 Newman Street, London W1T 3EG), email (comps@theoldie.co.uk) or fax (020 7436 8804) by 27th July. Don’t forget to include your postal address.

Some years ago, my doctor said: “You know, you really oughter
Drink less.” Since then, I’ve never touched a single drop - of water.
But gin and brandy, ale and shandy, whisky, rum, and porter:
I’ll drink the lot, by tot or shot, by snifter or by snorter.

And as for wine, from plonk to fine, there’s red and white and bubbly,
There’s Cotes du Rhone, there’s Chablis, Beaune, and Claret (lovely jubbly!),
From France or Spain, from hill or plain, from chalky soil or rubbly ...
Making this list, I’m halfway pissed, already seeing doubly!

Although there’s water in them all, the alcohol dilutes it.
(But tell me, why is sherry ‘dry’? Liquidity refutes it.)
Well, here we are, up at the bar, no ‘muzak’ that pollutes it;
A friendly pub with simple grub, the kind of nosh that suits it.

Some bread and cheese? They’ve tasty Bries, and Pecorino Sardo.
The barmaid here is such a dear, although no Brigitte Bardot.
Your round, old sport. I’m fond of Port, but hate that dismal Fado,
So cheers, mate, this’ll wet my whistle - Dry Amontillado.

Brian,
That's a good 'un. (Well, you don't do any other sort of poem :))

I thought it was time to bump this one up as yours is the only attempt so far.

We're back to the torrential rain and a cold wind again here - I've just had to go upstairs to put a jumper on, for heaven's sake - but I haven't got an idea for this comp yet, depite having seen enough water to last me for quite a while :(

Jayne

Sorry to hear about the weather, Jayne. We've got a heat wave in Paris! (Unfair, isn't it? We get the wave, you do the drowning.)

Oh well, Jayne, noblesse oblige - I wouldn't want you to have bumped the thread for nothing. (Does anyone know if The Oldie allows pseudonyms?)

I had to call the Water Board - my taps were spouting newts.
The man turned up, to my alarm, encased in welly boots.
I soon found out the reason as he ‘Blast’-ed and he ‘Bloody’-ed;
A spanner here, a hammer there, and everywhere was flooded.

I told him scathingly that I had just installed new parquet.
“I’m sorry, guv, it can’t be ’elped - no call for getting sarky.
I got me job to do, and that means everything gets wetter;
It ’as to get much worse, you see, before it can get better.”

The chap was stuck beneath the sink, complaining of the headroom.
The newts were gaily swimming round the kitchen and the bedroom;
My tabby cat was eyeing them with speculative relish,
But I had never had a day so absolutely hellish.

At last he said “Can’t do no more, you’ve got a nasty leak;
I’ll ’ave to order in some parts, they should arrive next week.”
“And what am I supposed to do? I’m up to here in mire!”
“Just leave the windows open, guv - in time, it may get drier.”

Dry and Wet
 

I laughed out loud at that one, Brian. A delight!
I especially loved the newts, and cat eyeing them.. and the workman's glib responses.

Yup - good one Brian. And welcome, Graham.

Exactly what Ann said.

Good one, Brian. Welcome Graham.

Can't help loving D&A.

Thanks (belatedly) for the greetings, folks! It was D&A that first appealed to me in Eratosphere (I can't recall now quite how I found it).. but so handy, to be prompted about these comps.