Skip to main content

The Antiquated Hoover

 The Antiquated Hoover

I have shamelessly plagiarised a new and delightful term from a creative friend of mine to whom I will refer as Nonnie Mouse on this stadium (and no, I am not translating directly from the Afrikaans “op hierdie stadium”) for no other reason than that I could not in my wildest imaginings share a stadium let alone a stage with his humble but huge talent. So the best I can hope for is that he will regard it as a compliment that I have sucked up this new and glorious contraption: the Antiquated Hoover to convey my latest ramblings.


Manipulation. Say this word in company these days and you may as well spell it with an F. My guess is that no person alive would admit to being manipulative if you asked them outright. I’ve even cringed at the thought that I myself might have become quite adept at this particular skill. After all, I have convinced at least two toddlers in my lifetime that their food is actually made up of small, heaped teaspoonfuls of aeroplanes (yes, I’ve checked the spelling and teaspoonsful is currently not a thing, although my late mother who was a stickler for all things grammatical and mineral would most probably have insisted upon it, but, she’s not around now, and in all probability no one else really cares)

Where was I? Sucked up into the antiquated Hoover no doubt: Manipulation. Rules. The subtle ones. I’ve blogged about this before. The Notalloweds and The Pusherbackers. Those people who somehow know all the things you do which you don’t know you’re not supposed to do until someone looks down their nose at you and then you realise you’re doing those things, and possibly doing even more of them than you realised, whatever they might be. Maybe you walk down a road every day that no one else will walk down because it’s dirty or dangerous or full of undesirables. Maybe at first you do it out of curiosity because no one else you know does it and once you’ve done it a few times, you start wondering what everyone is fussing about. Maybe they’ve been scared into believing something terrible will happen to them if they dared walk down that road like the little person in AA Milne’s poem about Bears. Watch where you walk because if you walk on the lines and not in the squares the bears will come out and eat you. 


Getting back to my antiquated Hoover. How much time have I wasted sucking up the millions of particles of debris someone who believes they are bigger than I am has manipulated me into believing is either good for me or true about me or true about the world around me and has tried so hard to convince me that if I just suck it up, believe it and assimilate it, I will become something they have have decided I should become and I will be happy and complete and worthy of admiration. 


Then one day I realise my bullshit filter has become clogged.The bag inside my antiquated Hoover is perishing and I’m starting to burst at the sides. I can no longer suck up the negativism; the lies; the manipulation by individuals even those who may call themselves family or friends; marketing companies; governments whether in what they call First or Third Worlds. How dare they?  Who decides what’s First and what’s Third World like some defunct class system still used by the now privatised railway company when you purchase a ticket and the person in the ticket office assumes you want to purchase a FIRST CLASS ticket which is more expensive than the THIRD CLASS ticket, just because of the colour of your skin. I don’t even want to buy a new bag at the shopthatsellsbullshithooverbags. 


Thank you Nonnie Mouse because your little squeak was not a squeak at all. It was a roar that sent those bears rushing back to their lairs. 


I will walk on all the lines. I will touch the untouchables. I will embrace when others need an embrace and not bump elbows because it’s bullshit. I will wear the cloth mask because I do believe it offers some protection for myself and others but I will no longer mask me. I will be kind and where possible, I will be truthful unless I know it will cause real harm in which case I will lie kindly. I will suck up as much goodness as I can from this wonderful country in which I live and which gave me life and continues to give me life because there is more of it than many will have us believe and my antiquated Hoover will not have space for the rubbish and the negativism. I will smile at; talk with; listen to and see and believe what I want to see and believe and who I want to believe. If that means that someone thinks I’m naive; blind or stupid then that’s fine. They can empty their own filters in their own garbage bins on Mondays 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Granny's Hands Granny’s Hands           Hold my hand Granny Tell me again How many times is seventy times seven And what does forgive mean Tell me again.   Granny’s hands have spots all over Tell me again Why does the sun make everything better When tomorrow comes Tell me again.   Granny picks Rosemary and Lemon Verbena Everything smells Of Lemon Verbena Teach me again Granny Those easy lessons Of making things better With Lemon Verbena   Children can live on ripe pomegranates Pork crackling snacks  fresh Apple Pie Two late husbands and burying two children and yet, I only once saw her cry.   The way to fix things was to Unpack your cupboards “Sadness will go,” Granny would say. “Sadness can’t live in nice tidy cupboards,” But what do you do with it? Pack it away?   Granny’s hands were soft and gentle Rough and wrinkly At the same time   Hold my hand Granny Tell me again How many times is seventy times seven times seventy times...

The Apple Cart

The Apple Cart  We were the offspring of the Volksie generation The Nestum cherubs of the Baby Boom Nylon, terelyne, lurex and spandex  All mixed in with a trip to the moon In our DNA the early rumblings  Of human division we did not understand But soon we learnt the language of survival Was written in the palms Of our sticky little hands So off we marched with our Crayola rifles While Dorothy Fisher got a brand new heart We coloured in pictures of the man on the moon And took a Giant Leap onto the apple cart Great big apples. Fresh and juicy More than enough for and more to spare We ate and ate until our bellies ached And still there were apples enough to share Which was quite fun until somebody said: “Hey! These rules aren’t right. Something’s wrong” So, some of the kids were allowed up on the cart While some other kids had to trundle along Behind the apple cart picking up the apple cores Thrown down by the kids...

Sure Footedness

Rock hopping comes naturally to most children. As a young child, I somehow always found a path that required a certain sure-footedness. One such path was a narrow little retainer wall which ran along the front of a neighbour's hedge becoming higher as the road and sidewalk ran down to join the main road which ran through the city. The little adventurer in me had worked out that I could jump onto the little wall where it started at only about a foot off the ground and run all the way around the border of the house, jumping over the gap where the gate and steps met and continue along as the wall got higher to the corner, which at about 3 metres, was the highest point of the wall which ran around the large property. It then levelled out as it continued around the corner and I could jump off at the other end where it was only about one metre off the ground. Why I did this, I never really understood when running down the sidewalk would have been much safer and much easier.  The ability ...