12 MAY 1990, Page 43

The Char

They've told me over and over it can wait Till the next day — the cook, housekeeper, members Of the family — meaning that mine's An unimportant task, as they see me stare, Heavy-lidded, at the dying embers.

But it's not unimportant (though, of course, You don't need brains to do it) — clearing the table, Scrubbing that mound of dishes and utensils, Scouring the flags, killing the fire, dragging Waste to the trench and, last, checking the stable.

What if it all accumulated? What Then would they say? Who'd they be punishing!

And as for a long face and dozing off Before the grate, that comes of waiting on Their last swigs, belched good nights, infernal finishing.