To Hang A Perfect Frame
Unlike Uncle Podger
It was quite frustrating to see the first sight of the day as the newly mounted frames of the living room found scattered on the floor, although fortunately not broken. The plastic frames presented favourite photographs from the albums of our travel vacations. I concluded that the double-sided tapes could not hold up the frames, as firm as I had been expecting. I sat on the floor, looking towards the patches of the tapes which created a notable bruise on the neat cream-coloured walls of the living room. I sulked. On second thoughts, towards the reformulation of the theory of perfect hanging of frames, Uncle Podger flashed in mind, only to discourage me from further attempts of mounting the frames. I started a quick read of the short story from the internet.
The story of “Uncle Podger Hangs a Picture” by Jerome K Jerome begins with a prejudiced preamble for the readers,
“You never saw such a commotion up and down a house, in all your life, as when my Uncle Podger undertook to do a job….”
The idea of the story and my soliloquy went on like,
Mr Podger engaged the entire family while mounting a picture that came from the frame-maker’s home. “Really? Entire family? Well, no one around here!”
Mrs Podger needed to ask her husband before doing anything with the frame as he had been the man of the house. “That’s okay. He doesn’t mind.”
The act of hanging the frame began right from the sending off of a girl for buying the nails and then the boys after her to inform on the size of the nails. “I am going to stick with a glue gun. The frame is plastic, anyway.”
Then Tom, Will, Jim, and Maria were assigned to the jobs of bringing the hammer, rule, step-ladder, kitchen chair, spirit level, and torch; the girl who ran for the nails should be sent back again for the picture cord. “Wow, wow, wow! Was he hanging the frame or making it from scratch? I had none of them, neither do I need them.”
Mr Podger would drop the frame while mounting it, cut his finger, run around for handkerchief kept in the coat upon which he was sitting when the search party had been surfing for the same, for a long time. “Inner Peace, Podger. It’s how you make a slippery slope.”
Once he had resumed his impending job, the whole family gathered around him to help the man by undertaking several tasks such as holding the chair and handing over the frame, nails, and hammers. “Wise says that too much of people would kill no snake.”
Then he would lose the nail; once it was found, then the hammer would be lost. The marks on the wall for pinning the nails would be disappeared and he would have to re-measure and that would get under his skin while he asked for the public opinion. “Concentrate, Podger, concentrate! Too much opinion at this time? Bad decision!”
Then he would lean on the wall at an angle of forty-five degrees to reach a higher point and would fall on the piano to create a ‘really fine musical effect.’ “Well, I should shift the coffee table. The angle must be small. Gotcha!”
When Mr Podger had finally found out the spot for the nail, he would smash his thumb with the hammer, which would fall on the toes of someone else who would yell in pain. “That must be hilarious to watch!”
Mr Podger would present a poor defence to Ms Maria when she mocked him of taking the time for doing a simple job. He would say, ‘women make such a fuss over everything.’ “ Watch your words, Podger. Aren’t you contradicting?”
In another blow to pin the nail, the nail and hammer went straight through the plaster while Mr Podger ‘precipitated’ against the wall such that the nose could have got flattened. “Haha! The slapstick!”
He would repeat the whole process of hanging a picture until midnight when the picture was finally found in a ‘very crooked and insecure’ position on an untidy wall. “Hm, something that intimidates me. What if glue gun fails? What if the marks are permanent? The first sight on my home, the bruises of tapes and glue guns?”
While everyone was miserable, Mr Podger would remark with pride, “There you are” and “Why, some people would have had a ‘man’ in to do a little thing like that!” “Really? Are you being proud and chauvinistic at the same time? That too on this mess? I am going to be better than you, old man!”
Unlike the funny story I had read fourteen years ago, I could deduce the colours and contrasts inside a superficially humorous character today. Maybe, Mrs Podger could have stepped in and undertaken the responsibility of hanging the frame, while Mr Podger could be still seen offering a helping hand. Also, Mr Podger never needed a gang of people had he be sufficiently planned the solution. Then, there would not have been a ‘Much- Ado-About-Nothing’ sort of situation.
Yet, I had the problem alive, to hang the perfect frames.
I resumed; all I needed was a few newspapers, glue guns, scissors, frames, and a sofa to climb on. The family man had directed on the tilt, functioning as the spirit levels, literally and figuratively. Yay, the frames shine on the wall; no chaos, but the eventual perfection. I loved it!
