Don’t jump off the roof, Dad . . .
by David Constantine
(Collected Poems, Bloodaxe)

I see the amplified mouths of my little ones
And dear old Betty beseeching me with a trowel.
I am the breadwinner, they want me down of course.
I expect they have telephoned the fire brigade.

They have misinterpreted my whizzing arms:
I am not losing my balance nor fighting wasps
Nor waving hello nor signalling for help.
These are my props and I am revving up.

From here I have pity on the whole estate.
The home going lollipop lady regards me with amazement.
I shall be on the news. Lovely Mrs Pemberton
Will clutch Mr Pemberton and cry: It’s him!

Ladies, I am not bandy, it is the footing I must keep.
My run-up along the ridge-tiles will be inelegant.
But after lift-off, breasting the balmy wind
And when I bear westwards and have the wind in my tail

Do not try this at home. Self-confidence is a definite advantage in most areas, but wingless flight is not one of them. Book with a reputable airline and take out travel insurance.

The poet obviously doesn’t actually attempt self-propelled flight, or he’d be hamburger meat at the bottom of the building – instead of which he has written the poem. But he has created a character who thinks of doing it, who might reflect his feelings, but who may also be based on the father in a song recorded by Tommy Cooper in 1961, under the same title.

Has “Dad” cracked under the pressure of being responsible for the upkeep of his family? Perhaps as a result of an oppressed existence, and in a moment of madness, he imagines the freedom of flying without even a microlight, forgetting about the inevitable crunch at the end. Or maybe oblivion appeals?

He sees the “amplified mouths” of his children, which indicates that they must be shouting up at him, and that their mouths must also appear to be enormous holes in their faces from his vantage-point on the roof. He observes Betty pleading with him. In Tommy Cooper’s song the wife had been gardening – so here the poet has named her.

The observation of the man that he is the breadwinner, coupled with his family wanting him down, indicates that there may be more than simply love involved in their efforts to persuade him to descend by the stairs instead of taking the short cut. In the song, the children’s motive is to prevent “Dad” jumping on their mother’s petunias; they suggest that he should go jump in the lake instead.

The self-propelled human plane is preparing for take-off, and he is quite right in thinking that he’ll be in the news; in real life it would be for the flightless crash, but in his fantasy it would be for his fantastic airborne abilities.

He explains that he is not really bandy-legged: in running down the middle of the roof the soles of his feet would be turned in because of the pitch of the tiles on either side of the apex. This would throw his knees out like elbows.

It is the idea of making for the “big sun” that concerns me, because it reflects the vanity of Icarus in Greek mythology, whose father (Daedalus) made them both wings to escape imprisonment by Minos, king of Crete, who wished to ensure that they wouldn’t give away the secrets of the labyrinth that housed the Minotaur. Icarus flew too close to the sun, which melted the wax that held the feathers of his wings together. Pride goes before a fall, as the old cliché says: Dad on the roof is already proud of the stir he will cause.

However, let us hope that the poet intends to give Dad-on-the-roof the happy ending to which he aspires, because it’s up to him; he can have it any way he likes. So our hero will take off like a bird, his cares will evaporate in the exhilaration of the updraft and, as a result, the lovely Mrs Pemberton will be able to exclaim “It’s him!” just as he predicts.

frieda.hughes@thetimes.co.uk

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