It’s not easy being famous, you know.
Folk get jealous of you.
Even your family look at you differently
Say that you’re making a show of yourself.
Pretty soon they stop calling altogether.
No,
I’ve not heard from the old gang for oh,
must be centuries now.
Back in the old days, we used to meet up now and then:
Me and Lochy and Oich,
Out on the town
(Figure of speech, of course
the towns came later.
That’s when the trouble began.)
Look, when new neighbours move in
You say hello.
It’s only polite.
How was I to know they’d make such a big deal out of it?
The others kept well out of sight
Antisocial, the pair of them
Said I was loving the spotlight
I thought that was unfair of them
Still, I hope they’re both doing alright.
Lochy and Oich.
Do you know, there are films about me?
They make toys.
Used to be a cartoon.
Oich would have pissed herself laughing at that, if she’d known.
Lochy would not have approved.
She’d have said that it lowered the tone.
But they called it the Family Ness,
In that version I wasn’t alone.
Having family here,
That’s a lovely idea.
But instead, I am all on my own.
Or I would be.
If not for the boat tours
The film crews
The divers
The hikers
The gawpers
The stalkers
You try to make friends
Poke your head the out door the once or twice,
And suddenly
You’ve not a moment of peace
Maybe Lochy was right
It’s just not worth the price.
It’s not easy being famous.
The folks you grew up with
Start to give you a wide berth.
For all I that I hear from them now
I might as well be
The last dinosaur on earth.
Tom Juniper Poetry 