Dear Worzel, Mauve, mauve, puce, my, well, “odd couple”, who had made themselves at home on Sonsie Farm were up to something. Miss Constance Dinwiddie- Mulgrew reported them, “malingering at a builders site, stowing a plastic sheet in their wagon”. They are not thieves, per-se, more like two jackdaws, considering any object left about, and will fit in their wagon, “fair treasure”. I had caught Benny with a measuring tape, outside one night as I trotted to the loo, he claimed he was measuring the dunny for a new hole. I also heard Adelaide, tearing up another old shirt of Godfrey’s for rags. They both knew that I knew they knew they considered my house of puce, with mauve trim “hideous”. “All proper houses are yellow”, stated the portly Adelaide, in her genteel tone. distant now her youth, having waited on the Queen, she frequently reminds me thus. As you know, I rarely leave the farm, but this day, told Benny I was off to Skibbereen, “I parked my ute end of the lane, crept back via the lamb paddock and some very insensitive nettles to view the yard- Indeed! they were up to no good!.
Mauve, mauve, puce, Godfrey sang as he painted, mauve, mauve, puce, he sang, painting Beatrice’s “wee hoose”. Puce, puce, mauve, I scolded Adelaide, was long ago, the spring that he left Wales to rove” “But why puce?, was Adelaide, former maid to The Queens reply. ..She and partner Benny lived cozy in their sleep out, painted vivid yellow with old, plaid trunk, and sturdy bed of books. “The crafty, old rogues now stood before my puce house, with paint tins in hand, and innocent looks.
Mauve, mauve, puce, Godfrey sang, ,”I scrape and sand, I am painting puce the posh house of my nasty, nasty Uncle Lou Gland”. ..under cover of night, for Uncle Lou is away on the road, playing trombone with his band”. He came home when the paint was not yet dry, all Godfrey’s life Lou had tormented him with beets, “It could use a second coat”, he observed, but I dare not go back and try”. “But mauve trim? Benny, is a practical sort, Outback born, “It is faded and sun worn, peeling neath the gutter spout, we have lovely yellow paint, leftover from our sleep-out”. “It stays puce in perpetuity, I explained to kindly Benny….
“He disliked beets, and his Uncle Lou knew, rubbed Godfrey’s face in beets, laughed when he would spew, every family gathering brought his tuneless trombone, tried to catch the lad with beets when off alone”. “Mauve, mauve, puce, were the bruises beets inflicted, black and blue when beet bearing bullies, were paid to pound Godfrey, paid for by his Uncle Lou” “Nowadays it would be called abuse, and when we were older, and Lou called my home a “Hovel”, Godfrey painted Lou’s house a vivid puce. “He never lashed out in anger, never raised a hand, when Lou rubbed his face in a pet stain or filthy cat-sand. “Lou met his end on a lonely railroad track, the house stays puce, with trim of mauve, so please store the paint away, and take all the builders gear you snitched back”.
Mauve, mauve, puce, trusty Adelaide held her ground- “Perhaps, said she, perhaps the color puce makes your house look beyond tumbledown? ” “A coating of gold, would add a warm glow, where goats have chewed the cladding, and the porch steps sag, tawdry and old”. ..”Into their wagon went paint, brushes, turpentine, roll of plastic, fancy stir stick, and two pairs of coveralls I recognized as mine”. “Miss Constance Dinwiddie-Mulgrew saw them at the builders site, returning things purloined, pinching a crate of nails by dark of night..they have not come home, I do not worry though, the old pair often roam. “They could be down the creek, could be off seeking yellow houses far and wide, but oddly, I miss the two as tonight I sit by myself outside”. “Mauve, mauve, puce..I hear in memory, Godfrey up the ladder singing, in my old puce house, for the first time in my life, here I sit, oddly lonely.. From Beatrice.