In Time

Boing, boing. Boing, boing…. Boing, boing. Boing, boing…
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…

Only three o’clock and I’m already sagging

I don’t think that I’ll be able to last to the evening

I suppose that nice Colin, or that Kenny, will be in for tea and notice

Oh, I do hope so

I don’t like running to a stop

I get so wound up when my pendulum halts and the beat goes out of my life

Well, at least I’m not one of these new smarty plastic digital jobs:

all flashing and no voice
‘Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…’

I do so hope that that little Heather,

doesn’t come in soon.

Her and her spoiled-rotten schoolgirl ‘Whatever’s’

in the wee squeaky affected voice!

Wherever did she get that!

Well, it wasn’t from her parents!

‘Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…’

I don’t get out much: it goes with the job

The last time that I was out of a house

was when Colin’s dad died
I was sitting on his mantle-piece going tick-bloody-tock

and watching the football

when he got up and went through the house

He came back with a cream bun and a mug of tea

It’s alright for some, I thought


The game went on

And, then I noticed it


Nothing was happening

The tea was cold and the bun half eaten

I knew that his pendulum had stopped

and the ticking of his heart was no more

But, what could I do: nothing

They came in the morning, found him and within a week

I was whisked off to Colin’s house

He winds me up regularly saying, ‘I remember you dad!’
‘Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…’

That Heather is worth the watching though

She comes in and before I can go boing-boing

she has me on silent and is polluting the room

with Dance music

I ask you, Dance music!

Then cool as she likes, she pretends to study

as she rummages round the web
‘Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…’

Thank god, here’s her brother

He will sort her out

And he does

I hear the tantrum-throwing Heather running to her room

through slamming doors as the music goes off

and serious sixth year Kenny takes his seat at the Dell

Better still, he turns me on: off silent

He likes me to keep his chunking together and watches me

when I am boing-boinging away

It makes my day
‘Tick, tock. Tick, tock.…’
I suppose that this is really the best time of the day:

the peace before they have their tea

and the soap opera antics start

That Heather is the worst

She wants this, she wants that

And her mum is all over her

Yes dear! Later, dear!

‘Tick….tock. Tick….tock.…’

I see Colin put up with so much from the girls

Kenny helps him though from time to time

with the odd hand grenade,

when the chattering pair get too much

Then the pendulum swings momentarily to Colin

and we get a bit of peace and reason for a while

I am left to my relentless delivery as I unwind in the evening

Things are getting slower but I keep the hands moving

as I continue to show face
‘Tick………….tock. Tick……….tock.…’

I am toiling as night comes in and the sound of the television

pervades from the lounge

Then I can’t believe my luck,

Colin comes through the door and opens my glass face cover

 ‘Tick………..tock. Tick…………tock.…’

Colin flips out his key and before I can coil my spring

he gives all three of my mechanisms a good workout

I am now nice and tight as he swings my pendulum

to its maximum and sets me back to full fitness

‘Tick, tock. Tick, tock.’

He says, ‘I remember you dad!’
‘Tick, tock. Tick, tock.’
‘Boing, boing. Boing, boing.…


About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
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