Shortly after we had another call from the agent saying that the light above the bed in the main bedroom had broken and needed replacing. What they were up to in the bed is anybody’s guess.

  In the lease it was stated that there was only to be no more than two horses on the property and they were to be kept out of the garden. It just so happened that we were on an inspection of the property with the agent when six horses came thundering up the driveway and into the garden. We were not pleased and the agent said he would sort it out. Seeing what the horses had done to the garden, Alice wasn’t waiting around for anybody else to sort it out and went in for the kill herself. Also on the lease it was stated that only a minimal amount of paintings or pictures were to be hung on the walls. They must have liked the look of themselves as all the available space on the walls were covered in framed photographs of themselves.

  The tenants had signed up for a two year lease but at the end of the first year he had been sacked and wanted out. The agent was very sympathetic towards the tenant and said due to extenuating circumstances we should release him from his obligation. I was glad to see the last of him. On inspecting the property before he left I found amongst his gear several items that belonged to me that he had collected up out of the shed I had kept out of the lease. The tenant wasn’t about so I collected up the items and took them home. There was a very fine large old milk barrel that I had made into a mail box and welded to an iron pole. The tenant had an oxy welder with him so as he left so did the mail box.

  The other four tenants that followed him were stories unto themselves so watch out for the next episode.

  LIFE IS A JIG SAW.

  Life is a jig saw and that is how it is meant to be. Think how boring it would be if the whole picture was laid out before you and you didn’t have to trouble yourself to put the pieces of your life together. It would be a lot easier of course but then you wouldn’t have the joy of wondering what came next or what went where. Things just happen, like today I had nearly finished writing my story for next Tuesday, that’s when I go to my writers club, when my computer went blink and my story went off into cyber space never to be seen again.

  As a small child I was sure someone had stolen several pieces of my puzzle as very little came together for me. It bothered me a lot back then as I struggled to fit all the pieces together and in my mind I felt this might never happen as I was convinced someone had removed pieces that were vital to the big picture. I felt I would have to hang in there until I grew up and then all would be well. A strange child, perhaps I was because I worried about where I fitted into the scheme of things and as a small child I shouldn’t have bothered my head about such matters.

  Some of the pieces had started to come together when a big wind blew up and scattered all the pieces into a jumble. Puberty had arrived with a new puzzle to sort out and this wasn’t going to be easy. It was all beyond me so I put the puzzle into the too hard basket and hoped it would sort itself out at some stage. This was a very difficult period and lasted a long time but eventually I made it through with just a few battle scares to show for it.

  In adult life the jig saw was just as difficult but there wasn’t time to worry about it. You knew the pieces of the puzzle needed sorting out but there wasn’t time to dwell on it so you just ploughed through the tribulations of everyday life and got on with it. Sometimes the pieces would almost come together but then some major event would come along and you would have to start all over again.

  Then the ultimate happens, you are now referred to as a senior citizen and you supposedly have time to sort out your jig saw. Suddenly the jig saw is no longer important, you have sorted out all the important bits and have no further worry about what goes where. If life is a jig saw you have reached the ultimate stage of putting the last pieces together and it doesn’t matter one bit.

 
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Les Shipp's Novels