When I was young, most of the people that lived on our housing estate had an electric meter that had to be kept, ‘Alive’ by feeding it fifty-pence pieces.

When I was much older, the meters remained but you had a small, blue rectangular key that the local shop topped up for you.

Although more convenient than having to scratch around for fifty-pence pieces, you could still find yourself with no electricity late at night and no shop open until the morning!

This poem is about one such incident. The poem is unusual in that it is a monologue.

‘There’s no ‘leccy in the meter mum!

And the key’s not by the door!

I’m sure that’s where I left it,

when I topped it up before!

You look in the kitchen mum,

And I’ll look round upstairs.

D’you think if I asked nicely,

The shop would have a spare?’

‘If I knew where I had left it mum,

It wouldn’t now be lost.

I’m only being logical,

There’s no need to get cross!

I promise when I find it mum,

I’ll put it by the door.

You’re right! I think I’ve said all that,

A thousand times before!’

‘Oh bugger! It’s gone dark mum!

Now we’ll never find the key!

Can you go and grab the kitchen torch?

At least then we can see.

It’s in the little cupboard mum,

The one beneath the stairs.

What d’you mean it’s got no batteries,

I’m sure I left them there!’

‘I put them right beside it mum!

When I put it back last week!

Well, you have to take the batteries out,

Just in case they leak.

And if the contacts all corrode,

We’ll both be out of luck.

I can’t hear you ‘cause you’re screaming mum!

You couldn’t give a what?’