Sitting on a Bench Part Two

Sitting on a Bench Part Two©

By

Michael Casey

Part of my new routine will be sitting on a bench, the newer bench in the churchyard, the one in loving memory of John Thomas Beddall. I get a rest and he gets a prayer so its a good relationship. The view from the bench looks at the church and then beyond the high street, there is also a splendid tree. There was talk of felling the tree to increase car parking, the lady in the church told me she’d chain herself to the tree should she hear any whispers from the squirrels. So there I am undisturbed on my bench with the tree for company.

I used to sit on a bench in Saint Phillips churchyard in Birmingham city centre when I used to work in the city, a long time ago now. Though when it rained I hid in the church for 3 years. I used to stand all day in the very hot Pinsent Masons print room so a cool church with a bench to sit on was a very good thing. And yes I prayed sometimes, God alone knows how great my prayers were, perhaps John Thomas Beddall will let me know when we meet in the Future.

A bench really is a great thing, so please don’t let your local yobs destroy any, it is a great resource which you’ll appreciate when you are old or infirm. Besides when you are drunk or bladdered you’ll appreciate something that is not moving. Not unless you and your girlfriend decide on al fresco love making, a la bench.

We have other benches in the woods, you can look out at the dip, or bowl shape of grass below the woods from your perch on high. In the winter kids sledge down through dog pooh on plastic bin bags or sledges. The bench with the best view is in memory of another person, so it really is a nice memorial. Maybe if you cremate you can leave a bench instead of a grave and a headstone. Its a thought. To maintain a headstone can be very expense as we have recently discovered in our family. So you could cremate and plant a bench somewhere nice. I have asked for a bench when I’m gone. So I can climb out my grave and have a sit and frighten passersby. Which reminds me read The Graveyard Book.

As you sit on your bench you can watch the world go by, you see all the sights as they pass you and you get some fresh air too, so long as you are not sat too close to the main road or a bus stop or crossings. There goes the traffic wardens wrapped up against all the weather, you watch them warming their hands on car bonnets, or rather checking how cold the engine is and thus how long ago the driver parked. Then you smile as drivers hurry back claiming they’ve only just popped into the pharmacy to get medicine for their sick mum. But you saw the name of the pharmacy, Smiling Paul’s Honest Betting Shop, but the traffic warden lets the punter off, in exchange for a tip for the next race at Windsor. Number 19, Harry’s Girl.  

Bench life is nice, you can even bring sandwiches to eat and a flask of tea too. When on holiday my dad would take his false teeth out and suck them saying. That sandwich was the best ever, mom is such a great chef, she bought them in Tesco’s on the way to the beach in Abergele. But being on a bench is like being on a cruise ship if uou are poor. The bench is your floating island as people pass by. You are static but there is a sea of people and things passing by. The Casey family are like refugees planting themselves and their lives on a park bench.

Rain is the enemy of bench life, so you must dash to the tea shop or chip shop, or church should the rain fall. My dad has a handkerchief on his bald patch to keep it dry, before it was to keep the sun away now its to keep the raindrops keep falling on his head, he is no Sacha Distel.

In church we read the leaflets and light a candle or too hoping the rain will stop soon. Dad is tired so he lies down at the back of the church. Mum says a Rosary, you get a free wish for every new church you visits so she is blackmailing the angels and saints while dad gently reposes on the back seat bench, a kneeling cushing as his pillow. Mum’s happy and we are bored, there’s a bit of thunder now, so we are glad the church stays open all day for us refugees. The skies clear and the inside of the church brightens up, we’ll leave soon to find fish and chips for all of us. There is one final clap of thunder from the back benches, it’s dad’s farting as only he could. So dad leaves sniggering in search of a toilet before chips.

And that’s just a few memories of Park Life, or bench life, enjoy your benches wherever you are. One day you will not be sat on a bench any more, you will be a plaque on a bench, you will be a loving memory.