Rest in Peace,

dear old V.H.S video recorder,

your life was one given

in service of those to whom

staying in was an anathema

and the pause button,

for whatever their reason,

be it grainy, dirty or just

frequently needing the loo

during a good film

or quickly taped soap opera

as the promise

of a night out at the pub with no

strings attached became a modern

necessity.

 

Farewell and thank you

for being able to tape Doctor Who

midweek when to be honest

I would rather be outside and down the Garth

chatting up the girls and puffing

on an ill gotten gained pint

in the ex-servicemen’s club,

thank you for taping V, for the first

dramatic and real horror scare when my dad

brought home Alien to watch.

Thank you for the unwanted walks into town

just to take back the video for your dad

because he couldn’t face the drive;

or just wanted me out the house

for an hour or so, peace in his time.

Thank you for the catalogue of films

that strew my bedroom floor, that made

me a modern teenager, and though I never watched

Rocky or The Godfather,

you certainly gave me Weird Science

and some rather dodgy, unwanted

comedy compilations brought in desperation

for a Christmas I didn’t celebrate.

Goodbye you stubborn destroyer of wound up tape,

the chewer of memories, the panic as it ground

to a halt and whirred frantically and without conscious

as erase became its favourite phrase.

Loved or loathed, despaired over

or the life saver to many a night in

with unknown delights inside your plastic frame,

rest well as your day is numbered;

is it real or is it Memorex, as the skinny boned man

said countless times, like life should be seen,

rewind but never fade away.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016