A Shortened Long Weekend In The Lakes

A beam of light shone into the bedroom,
Through a crack in the tattered old curtains.
It was like that scene at the beginning,
Of the James Cameron classic, Aliens.

Only it wasn't anything so remotely sinister,
Just your car as it stuttered up the driveway,
It sounded like Hell with added gunfire,
And it accounted for your lengthy delay.

You went all Basil Fawlty on the damn thing,
And it was a sight to behold, be assured.
I had told you that this would eventually happen,
If you bought that dilapidated old Ford.

Well the most of us were asleep or passed out.
In this old cottage you described to us as "idyllic".
With a roof barely on, and doors of dry rot,
It really did put the "rust" into rustic.

The rain hammered down the whole weekend,
We were fixed inside firmer than the thatch.
And for all the lakes there, swollen with water,
There seemed not a single fish you could catch.

Thank Heavens for Scrabble and Poker!
And the big pot to catch the big leak!
Stuck inside, did the eight of us go crazy?
No, but we would if it had been a week!

We'd never heard you swear so much, ever,
As we packed up our things, Sunday night.
Your girlfriend had threatened to dump you,
If from that place we did not alight.

Well I guess all the cursing was justifiable,
As the sun backlit the clouds late that e'en.
And I couldn't wait to get back to our mates,
And tell what happened where we had been.

We still talk about the shortened long weekend,
With a fondness not there at the time.
And if we had the chance to once again go there,
I'm afraid it's an offer I'd quickly decline!