Last night i placed some ply wood, some rubber, some glue and some sponge on one of the tables. I had bought these things with the last of the money that i had, intending to make one last Table Tennis bat for my wealthy client. However, I could not afford to put the heating on, my hands far too cold to work and so went to bed with stiff little fingers and stress in my heart.
I had a restless sleep, worrys and problems chased themselves around my head like dogs chasing cats. All night long i was convinced i could hear tiny chatter and wispy laughter, an affectation of my maudlin state i believed.
It was a long night.
But Lo! This morning when i did rise, all set to go and make the last table tennis bat of my life, i saw that someone had done it for me. I asked people I lived with, 'did you make this?'
A conclusive NO.
The bat was beautifully made, no trace of excess glue to be seen on rubber nor wood.
The handle had been flared and sanded to a glassy finish, a tiny gold line painted on for decoration. Its beauty made my manhood stir.
My client arrived at 10am to pick up the bat. When he saw the finished product he gasped and spluttered like an engine trying to start on a frosty morning.
'why this is beautiful!' he exclaimed. 'I want ten more just like it and i shall pay you double!'
So I have a mystery. Who made this bat for me? Why did they do it? My clients deposit enabled me to buy more than enough materials to make ten more bats but i am unsure as to whether i will be able to do them to the same standard.
We shall see.
