My Hot Water Bottle
By Geraldine Hannigan
On a short holiday to Costa Blanca recently, it being their winter – nice during the day but chilly at night – our Maria, attending diligently to her two senior aunts (Gertie and me) brought two hot water bottles for our beds. We had a good laugh about that. We had a lovely time –and the tales supported by the pink gin were mighty. Thank you Marie you are one in a million. When I came back I found this wee poem.
My Hot Water Bottle
By Geraldine Hannigan
When the wind and rain are howling,
sure you’ll never hear me scowling.
I’ll be cosy and content in my big feather bed.
I’m on my own you see and I’m turning 83
and there’s never been another man since Ned.
And you know what keeps me warm,
when I’m listening to the storm
and I’m finishing off the rosary at my ease.
It’s a nice big mug of tea
and a cream cracker or two or three
and my hot water bottle at my knees.
You see the weans are all away
but sometimes they come and stay
And they bring me loads of presents, they’re really good.
But they’re going to wreck my head,
an electric blanket for my bed
and I don’t trust them things even though I should.
Naw, I will not let them do it.
and I know I’ll probably rue it,
but let me have my way and you’ll agree,
That I don’t need these new devices
for the things that suffices,
is my old hot water bottle that for me.
Author: Geraldine Hannigan
This poem was first published in the publication Present at the Past – Gateway Writers Group
It is my pleasure to publish it on my writer’s blog writeyouwriteme.com
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 