Last Saturday (20) I, along with many talented performers, read two of my poems at the Annual NCVO Radio/Telethon.

They were hoping to raise $160,000 but managed a good total of $117,000 in pledges. There is still time to pledge even more.

This was my 26th consecutive time of reading my poems and as it seems many of my family and friends missed the wonderful show they asked me which ones I read.

Not to allow a request to pass quickly by I have told them to read them on iNews Cayman.

My husband Colin allowed me his space, although I didn’t give him the chance to say no so here they are plus a picture he took of me at the performance at The Prospect Playhouse.

ODE TO THE COMMODE

By Joan (Watler) Wilson

I remember the Backhouse (Outhouse) made of wood
Way down in the back garden is where it stood,
Three seats or so we had sitting side by side
In this tiny little room only five foot wide.

Newspapers were stockpiled in the corner on the floor
And they were there for us to read I’m sure
In those days we didn’t have newspapers like the “Compass”
But the “Daily Gleaner” from Jamaica was sent to us

I guess we were lucky in a sense
In receiving these papers for just a few pence,
Even though they were 5 weeks old from date of issue
They served the same purpose as our toilet tissue.
These Backhouses had no fixtures to fall off or corrode
No plumbers were called to fix this commode.
Unlike today with our fancy loos to flush,
They’re all shapes and sizes and imported just for us.

Some with long chains hanging from the ceiling
And those with handles so bright and appealing
Are all made of ceramic and every colour in sight
And placed conveniently beneath a bright light.

And there’s a special one with just a button to press
I’m told the water used to flush is considerably less,
But they’re full of problems I was told from the start
When something goes wrong we can’t get the part.

Not like our little Backhouse that was built to last
No one had problems with this in the past,
But gone is our little Backhouse of yesterday
Those ceramic toilets (thrones) are here to stay.

At the entrance to the “City” a fine specimen stood
Not in the back garden but quite near the road.
Some folks thought it was an eyesore and a real disgrace
For a Backhouse to be in such a busy place.

So it was decided to remove this little house of wood
And decorate the area with plants just where it stood.
With another piece of our past removed and now gone
They could have at least replaced it with a ceramic one!

RECORD PLAYER

By Joan (Watler) Wilson

I was quietly sitting in my lounge last evening
Sorting out some papers with some TV viewing
When at about 7.30 in walked my husband
Carrying a special piece of equipment in his hand.
He quickly but very carefully put it on the floor
Just next to me in the lounge as I said before
And I really didn’t pay him much attention at first
As he moved to the ‘fridge to quench his thirst.

He returned to the special piece of equipment next to me
And said, “Here’s your record player. I want you to see.”
“A record player!” I exclaimed, “I thought they were out of style.”
“I ordered this over the Internet and it was here in just a while.”
“But I have to assemble it first – now where do I start?
Ah yes, this is the main console, now where is the other part?”
Well I wasn’t paying him too much mind, as I was very busy
But the sighs and groans he made told me he was going crazy.

You see, three special pieces were missing from this piece of equipment
“I can’t believe it – I can’t believe these parts weren’t sent.”
Well the look on his face was plain to see
He was disappointed so it was up to me.
To try and sort out the bits involved
Before the missing pieces could be resolved
“Where did you open the box?” I asked
“At the office and what a task.”

“They had everything wrapped so carefully
So nothing would get damaged they wrapped them separately.”
“And what did you do with all the packing?”
“I threw it all in the garbage – what are you thinking?”
“You must’ve thrown it away,” I said to him,
“And if you did it would really be a sin.”
Well our next move was to search the garbage
One of those big buckets we would have to rummage.

But how did we do it you might want to enquire?
We used a chair but we had to get higher.
Well, we stretched and stretched ’til I thought we’d bust
And fell into the bucket both in disgust.
The scent was more than a human being could bear
The garbage was searched and you’ll be happy to hear
We found the missing parts for the record player
And the night ended with sweet music just an hour later.

But what an experience
Two Wilsons in a garbage bin