April 16th
I took Brent’s Mother into the city.
We went to my favourite book shop; we were looking for
something for Brent’s birthday.
“I just need to find a bathroom”, said Brent’s
Mother, the minute we got into the shop. I pointed her
in the general direction.
5 minutes later, an alarm went off and Store Security raced
through the door previously used by Brent’s Mother.
I waited another 5 minutes, wondering what all the excitement
was about.
Suddenly the door opened and Brent’s Mother emerged,
looking a little sheepish, escorted by a couple of burly
store security guys.”
“Oh dear,” she said, “I think I just
set off the fire alarm”. I looked at her with a raised
eyebrow. “Oh well,” she continued, “I
may have gone out the wrong door…it did say EXIT
and I just assumed…” The security team handed
her over and I went out to take a look at the offending
door.
Sure enough, over one of the doors was a large EXIT
sign but directly under that sign was another equally large
sign which said - NOT TO BE USED EXCEPT IN EMERGENCY…WILL
SET FIRE ALARM OFF…”
Clearly this door was not to be used unless a Meteorite
struck the store.
“And your emergency was?” I asked Brent’s
Mother, “Well, to get back to you…for lunch”,
she said matter-of-factly.
April 17th
Brent’s
Mother accompanied me into ‘Bin Inn’.
It’s one of those bulk food stores that has large
containers of unidentifiable substances among other things.
After yesterday’s adventure, I probably should have
tied her up outside but she seemed so keen to explore;
I just didn’t have the heart to.
I found her excitedly about to fill her bag with budgie
seed.
“What the ……?” I said.
“Bread making”, she said, “I’ve
found this wonderful grain for bread making – you
can’t get this at home”.
April 18th
I left Brent’s mother at home, while I went for
ride on The Phantom.
We met up with some other riders and stood around chatting.
The Phantom reached out to one of the other horses, “Look”,
he said, shuffling around a bit, “I’ve got
boots”.
The other horse stared at them and sniffed them, “What
the hey?” he said.
“BOOTS!” yelled The Phantom delightedly, “I
have boots!”
“Are you a tap dancer?”
“Do I look like a TAP DANCER?” roared the Phantom.
“Well, you have, THE BOOTS”.
We continued on our way home, the Phantom muttering and
stomping disconsolately along the road when suddenly a
bird flew out and startled him. He bounced up in the air
and clattered around in a perfect rendition of a Rag Time
Tap routine.
“Brilliant!” I said, “You are a natural
born Tap Dancer”.
“Listen”, hissed the Phantom, “Any mention
of this to Persil and I’ll tap dance into your living
room, sit on the couch next to your Mother-in-Law and put
my boots up on your table”, then he added, “And
you know she won’t stop me”.
April 19th
Brent’s Mother has an Aunt she wanted to visit.
We all went.
The Aunt is 86 years old and so like Brent’s mother
in personality, it’s spooky.
“Hello Dears,” she said, meeting us at the
door like an excited puppy.
“Oh!” she said, over a cup of tea, “It’s
just so wonderful to have visitors”, and she issued
us with a little china plate to put slices of fruit cake
on and she didn’t stop talking for about 4 hours.
I learned who is related to who down the entire family
tree, from Great Great Great(to the power of 10) Uncle
(on her Father's side) Bernard through to little Davis
aged 3. (and very advanced for his age)
I learned about an operation she was due to have on
her eyes – only she didn’t because the surgeon
wanted to do it a few hours earlier and she took that
as a bad omen and cancelled all together. She’s
technically “Blind” she told us gleefully, “but
I can still see smiles”.
We stood up to go and it took another hour to make it
the couple of meters to the door.
(There were a few more relatives, who arrived back in
1886, on The Good Ship Boredom that we apparently needed
to know about).
* Names may have been changed due to memory
failure
April 20th
Brent’s Mother’s influence has extended
to The House God.
She’s a strict vegetarian with a code of ethics
and logic that even I; an avid animal lover, find hard
to understand.
Zeuss came in late this morning and asked if he might
have a little snack.
I placed some minced meat in his bowl and was gobsmacked
when he pushed it away with his paw.
“I can’t eat that”, he said.
“You what?”
“I believe you prepared this on a board previously
used for cutting VEGETABLES”, he said, shuddering
as he mentioned the word ‘vegetables’.
“Well, yes I’m sure I cut some vegetables
on that at some stage”.
“Well, there you go then”, he said smugly.
“Zeuss”, I said, “this has never worried
you before, what the hell are you on about now?”
“I can’t eat something that has been tainted
by VEGETABLE FEAR”, he said emphasizing ‘vegetable
fear’ dramatically.
“You what?”
“Personally, I don’t know how you can do
it, uprooting those poor little vegetables from the only
home they’ve ever known…”
“Zeuss, this is absolutely ridiculous, what on
earth ARE you going to eat?”
“Oh don’t worry about me,” he said, “I’ll
get something myself”.
With that, he trotted outside to return about a minute
later with a dead rabbit he had obviously stashed somewhere
for just such an occasion.
I dumped them both outside, “That rabbit,” I
said, “is probably stuffed with carrots”.
April 21st
Brent’s mother has gone home now and Zeuss has
a new word he is keen to use.
Grommart sat on the couch with one eye open staring
into space with her tongue poking out slightly.
“Special needs”, said Zeuss.
Flossom swatted him with a well aimed paw as he walked
passed her, “Especially Grumpy” said
Zeuss.
Sticky yawned and stretched before wandering into
the bedroom to see if anything was happening, Zeuss
watched him go, “Especially bored” he said.
“And you Zeuss?” I asked; I was dying
to know… “SPECIAL AGENT” he
roared, before ducking outside to investigate stuff.
April 22nd
We have a major fly problem.
They come in herds and swirl about the place driving
us all nuts.
Brent’s brother had an electronic zapper which
impressed the socks off Brent (it’s a ‘man’s
gadget’).
Brent spent quite some time glued to the front of Ken’s
electronic fly zapper, waiting to witness the execution
of a fly.
When, eventually, a fly stupid enough to fly into
such an obvious killing machine, flew into it, there
was a loud zap complete with impressive lightening
effects and a puff of smoke.
Brent was entranced.
“We have to get one of those”, he said.
He purchased one which you wield by hand. It’s
shaped like a tennis racket so he could race around
the lounge zapping flies and practicing his tennis
at the same time. It lasted about two days before he
smashed it against what must have been an enormous
fly and broke the handle.
I decided to get the next ‘fly killing machine’;
it’s a Pyrethrum ‘puffer’. An unobtrusive
little device which sits up high and emits the odd
puff of (harmless to us, and more importantly, the
cats) Pyrethrum and it’s working a treat.
Now the vacuum cleaner is surviving happily on a diet
of dead flies, and I don’t have to put up with
Brent practicing a combination of tennis and deadly
martial arts around the lounge
next...
