April's short story From
Hazel McIntyre
April 9, 2000 ©Hazel McIntyre
 
The Contraption.  by Hazel McIntyre
 

 
The hands of the school clock slowly wound their way towards three o"clock. My mind was far away from the history lesson in progress. Instead of the battle of Clontarf, I was riding across the prairie with the Lone Ranger and Tonto. It was the day our first television set was to arrive. Free from school at last, we raced up the lane towards home. Then I saw it! Perched majestically on the chimney pot, its metal spikes reaching towards the heavens. Little shivers of excitement ran up and down my spine. "The aerial is up already, I wonder if it's come yet?" my young brother said breathlessly. "Just think, we won't have to run down the wet fields to Me Connell's to see the Lone Ranger anymore," I chipped in. We burst into the kitchen, throwing our school bags and coats at our feet. The shelf stood empty to our great disappointment.

"It hasn't come yet," my mother said. "I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it"s not smashed to smithereens, the way the railways throw things around," my father commented from behind his newspaper. We felt somewhat deflated at this piece of bad news. It was easy to imagine railway porters throwing our precious television onto carriages to get smashed to pieces. "God please don't let this happen," I silently prayed. Half an hour later the van arrived in the yard. We ran out excitedly, just as the door was opened. Our fears about the porters throwing it around were soon laid to rest when we caught sight, of the huge crate which must have weighed a ton. It took the might of my father, my'oldest brother. Mickey the van driver and Paddy our burly neighbour to lift it off the van. With the help of a claw-hammer the crate was dismantled.

The old rags and straw packing were discarded in endless bundles. Then at last the enormous wooden cabinet appeared out of the straw and rags. The small fourteen inch screen looked lost in its oak surround. But to us it was the most beautiful sight we had ever seen. Then began the task of hauling it into the house. "Now lift when I say, careful now," my brother instructed as all helpers shuffled forward under its weight. At last it was in place seated on a sturdy table. It was wisely decided unanimously that the shelf was not strong enough to support its weight. When finally it was wired up and plugged in, we held our breath in anticipation. A loud hissing sound came from it, then a blizzard appeared on the screen. "The aerial needs adjusting that's all, my big brother said encouragingly.
With this all hands went to the street as he climbed the ladder to the aerial. My father tutted and grumbled as he battled with the mountain of hastily discarded packing. We formed a human chain from the blizzard on the screen to the yard, while my brother twisted and turned the aerial. "No nothing yet, wait, that's a wee bit better We have the sound now," I shouted as hissing strains of Adarn Faith singing 'Poor Me' could be faintly heard. A little more fine tuning and a picture emerged to our great relief. "Let joy be unconfined! " said my father mockingly. We all settled down to watch the Beverly Hillbillies through a light snow flurry, when Paddy O'Neill came in. To our amazement he
showed no interest in the television whatsoever. Instead he began his usual conversation with my father about the weather and the crops. The only difference from other nights was the raised voices. When he got up to go he stopped momentarily in front of the TV. "Them contraptions will never catch on you know," he said.