Archimedes

There is something honest

and true about a man

who works with his hands

It is not theoretical

or hidden from view

instead it taps into

that primal part of you

often dormant after

years behind a screen

or screened off inside

a cubicle

and though my cuticles

speak of a pampered life

my inner caveman

beats his chest

and gives respect

to the man with blackened hands

and a lever

and a place to stand

Thoughts

I took my car in for its MOT today. It’s a local garage run by two great people and seeing them at work highlights how far I am from that skill level. My dad worked with his hands and it showed. He passed on his knowledge and I am grateful that I can turn my hand to most jobs around the house because of him. But seeing a specialist at work, like I did today, is a thing of beauty.

This is from a cave somewhere in Switzerland. Nothing to do with Archimedes. It’s how my Dad’s hands used to look after he had been working on his car, seventies style on the drive.

It passed, by the way.