Thursday 17 May 2018

Another evening chez Chateau Midden


Because of Ferretfingers’ aural hypersensitivity (particularly when it comes to music) I mostly watch television wearing cordless headphones.  They also help drown out his incessant humming and make following dialogue a lot easier.

Last night I sat, headphones on, watching Notorious* on the Tivobox, trying to knit in a puddle of light from the ‘daylight’ standard lamp Fester bought me for my last birthday. 
It was daylight when I started, and I hadn’t moved since sunset so the curtains were open well after dark or 10pm.  
Suddenly Ferretfingers says "knock on the door!"  
I stand up and peer out of the front bay window; seeing through the gloom not helped by the fact my eyes hadn’t adjusted from the light.
I think I can see a small ghostly figure on the front path, but not sure, so take off headphones, go to the door and find Ernextdoor with a woman I've never seen before.  
Ernextdoor in pyjamas and possibly drink.  
Woman is her cousin from Kent who can't work her front door:  it’s one of those ones where you have to lift the handle up before/after you insert/turn the key.  
So if she has trouble getting in can she knock on my door for assistance?  
Certainly, together we shall be able to bugger it up completely.  
Whilst this conversation is going on Teddy the Ginger Git cat takes the opportunity to slip out.  
Thunderthighs notices (how? radar? instinct?) and comes avalanching down from the loft to get him in.  
Also in pyjamas but barefoot so can't walk on the gravel drive.  
So there's four of us cat herding and the cat going up and down the drive, over the fence into the front garden - where Thunderthighs finally captures him and takes him in the house.   
Ernextdoor and cousin return to her house and we all go in.
Thunderthighs "You will remember to shut the kitchen door when you go snail hunting won't you."  
I reassure him I will.  
All returns to what passes for normal.


*Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman and Claude Rains in black and white and with overtones of promiscuity you don’t expect from 1946.

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