Fred And Gloria – Lockdown
Gloria was in the garden, smoking.
When Fred appeared he couldn’t hide his glee.
“Its separate beds for us.” He wasn’t joking.
“We need to social distance, you and me.”

“Don’t be a knob,” said Gloria, “we’re married.”
“But shouldn’t we be careful, Glo,” said Fred.
“If you’d thought of it six kids ago, I’d listen.”
She wondered what was going through his head.

He dreamed of 12 hour shifts and warehouse din.
Where days, however long, were not complete
without a pint or two of Speckled Hen
and bantered jokes with Lardy, Skiff and Pete.

“It’s on the news,” said Fred.” He tasted freedom.
Glo’s snoring was designed to wake the dead.
The back room beckoned temptingly. He reasoned,
she’d love it once he’d rigged her up a bed.

He’d watched the news and binged on Harry Enfield –
walked round the block and dragged the dog behind,
played Poker, Snap and Rummy in the adverts,
and even came out winning every time.

“A minimum 2 metres, they are saying.”
He knew that he was preaching to the wall.
“Just go and mow the garden.” Glo was rankled,
“and don’t forget to cut the hedge an’ all.”

They’d had a happy marriage, well, in general.
The kids were grown and mostly left the nest.
He wanted peace and quiet from the nagging
and wasn’t really bothered by the rest.

“I’m doing exercises in the lounge, Fred.
I need to lose a little bit of weight.”
‘That’s Gloria,’ thought Fred, though not unkindly,
‘she had a natural tendency to understate.’

He mowed the grass and dug the floral beds
while Glo gyrated down with Joe Wicks Pro.
He heard the thud and crashing from the shed.
How she survived it Fred will never know.

Her head was very nearly through the telly,
one leg protruding through the dining door
The dog was flattened underneath her belly
He’d never seen such carnage on the floor.

“Are you ok?” he asked, with some misgiving.
“Do I look it?” Glo replied, disgustedly.
“Up you get, then,” Fred was thinking of the vet bill.
“You’ll be alright. I’ll make a cup of tea.”

She managed to recover fairly quickly
The damage to her ego wasn’t good
“You cannot tell a soul,” she told him, strictly.
“If this gets out around the neighbourhood…

I’ll never trust Joe Wicks again, that’s certain,”
Glo lamented, casting blame with just a shrug.
“If I hadn’t double-flipped towards the curtains
I would have landed safely on the rug.

And, by the way, you’re sleeping in the spare room.
Until I’m good and rested from the fall.”
Fred nodded in agreement, thinking “BOOM, BOOM’,
This lockdown’s not so skanky after all.”

penned in fun by

Shirley B