Whenever my parents called me the dog would bark. So I learnt to do the same. My first words as a baby were "Woof Woof".
I got all the attention, of course. The dog got very jealous. So my parents had to make a very difficult decision. They put me out for adoption.
The dog got all morose and sad with me not being there. He used to like playing with me in the garden fetching the ball. So my parents tried to get me back for the sake of the dog. But the people who adopted me did not want to let me go. They loved me so much. So my parents bought them a dog and got me back.
Once back home we used to eat together, my dog and I. I preferred the dry pellets to tinned dog food; even though it said on the tin "improved taste." I wonder who tests the food to ensure it is improved taste?
I just loved the dog pellets instead. Apparently they have all the necessary nutrients and vitamins one needs, and are cheaper than baby food. I had them until I was in my early twenties; by then the dog had long departed. But I liked the taste and carried on with the dog pellets for energy and a lovely shiny coat.
Then suddenly, one day, the food intake landed me in hospital. I stepped off the curb to sniff a poodle's butt and a car hit me!
That's when I stopped eating dog food and changed my diet to cat food instead.
I think naming me after a dog has affected my life. People should be careful when naming a dog.
I once named a dog of mine Shark. It was a bad idea when he ran off his lead on the beach.
An old neighbour I once knew must have had a dog. He named him "Help!" I think.
I remember him shouting in his back garden "Help! Help!" Eventually, he must have found him because he stopped calling. The next morning, whilst I was out buying a newspaper, I saw an ambulance outside the old man's house. I wondered why the ambulance was there but never found out.
So think carefully before naming your pet. We once had a dog called Sugar. It dissolved a little every time we washed him.
What is your pet called?
I took no chances at releasing him; but once in the woods the damned animal shook his head and slipped out of his collar. He escaped as fast as his legs could carry him and despite his age he certainly did not need a walking frame to run away as a sprightly young pup.
I called him, "Filou ... come here ... come here boy ... here ..." but I forgot that the stupid creature did not know a word of English. So I tried again with a French accent, "Filou ... come zee 'ere ... 'ere Filou ... I 'ave zee délicieux KFC leg for toi!"
He ignored me. Possibly preferring frogs' legs to KFC ones; or escargot maybe.
It was getting dark. It was then I met an old man in the woods. He looked like a tramp in his dirty coat and hat.
I'm not saying he was a tramp. He was just not wearing a tweed jacket or a pin-striped suit made in Saville Row in London. He could have been a rich super-billionaire travelling incognito, for all I know. All I said is he "looked" like a tramp. As do I often, according to my wife. She said I give the impression that she does not care who she is with! Is that a compliment about me, I wonder?
I said, "Hello ... have you seen a dog running here? A small one ... white!"
He looked at me in a confused puzzled expression. I'd forgotten he probably does not speak English. What is it with people abroad? Why can't they learn English?
I said slowly, "HELLO!"
He replied, "'Allo!" in a French accent. I suppose in another country he would have used the accent of that country. But this time it was in French. "Allo!" he said.
At last we were making progress. I then pretended to bark and then motioned with my hands that Filou was small. I almost went down on all fours and then ran on the spot to indicate the dog had ran away.
He shrugged his shoulders and went "Meinhh !!" and walked away.
As he came close to a tree he just vanished. You normally expect a person to go behind a tree and then appear again as he walked past the tree. Not this guy. He just vanished. Instead, he was replaced by a fox which ran away into the woods screaming in French.
I was desperate to find Filou. I couldn't go back to its owners without him. I kept on walking in the dark woods and every so often shouting "Filou ... Filou ..." in French like a demented tourist in a foreign land. Which I was at the time.
Eventually, I saw the tramp again.
"'Allo ..." I said remembering to use a French accent, "zee dog ... woof woof ... zee running ..."
He shrugged his shoulders again and kept on walking. As he approached a tree he vanished again and was replaced by a screeching owl which flew towards me and then disappeared in the trees.
A little further on I saw the tramp yet again. Before I could speak he disappeared behind a tree and a deer stood there looking at me.
My imagination was running wild. Faster than Filou did when he escaped. Was this wood haunted? Is this tramp a ghost? Do ghosts speak in accents and are they limited to one language? Or do they understand all languages regardless of where they are? Are those creatures ghosts as well? Can you have fox, owl and deer ghosts? Do animal ghosts exist and speak? In what language and accents? What about Filou? Where the hell is he?
I was dejected and disheartened at the same time. In that order.
I decided to head back home and all the way I was rehearsing in my head how to explain to my hosts that I'd lost their precious dog; and what accent I should use in my explanation.
When I arrived, they said, "Where 'ave you zee been? We all zee veree woree for you ... Filou 'e 'az been 'ere over one hour ago!"
My dog can talk. I never noticed it before but he can actually talk. Unfortunately, he only talks in his sleep.
Sometimes he lies on his side sleeping and you can see his legs twitching as if he is running and no doubt dreaming he is in the park searching for the ball or stick I threw for him to fetch. At other times he is barking softly in his sleep, no doubt saying "throw it again ... do we have to go home so early you wimp?"
A few days ago he was asleep and in between snoring he was mumbling something or other under his breath. It sounded like words as his breath rattled under his cheeks as he breathed in and out. I got down on all fours to listen carefully.
It sounded like "neeen ... neeen ..." no, wait a minute, it sounded more like "nine ... nine ..."
I listened carefully. He moved a little and the sound was different. I quickly picked up a paper and pen and started scribbling as I lay there beside him.
(It reminded me of the song "Lay Down Beside Me" by Don Williams - but that's another story).
Any way, as I scribbled "9"; the dog made a noise that sounded like "prrrftteen ... prrrfteen ..."
The more I listened the more it sounded like "16". Then he let out a soft bark and went "nnnteen ... nnnn teen" which of course was "19".
It suddenly dawned on me even though it was late at night. The dog was telling me the lottery numbers.
This dog is a genius and I did not realise it. I stayed there with him all night and every so often I wrote down another number as he told me in his sleep.
My family thought I'd lost my mind.
The next morning I rushed out and bought a lottery ticket with the exact numbers the dog had predicted ... and then I waited expectantly for the lottery numbers to be called on TV.
He got them all wrong!
I went to see him because I could not find my chameleon. He was in his cage with plenty of vegetation and plants to make him feel at home and he camouflaged himself with the surrounding background.
The vet was busy. His receptionist had not turned up to work because her cat had died. Being a kind vet he went out to the pet shop and bought her an identical cat. Now she has two dead cats.
He asked me to look after the reception for him whilst he operated on a tin of sardines. He craved for some sardines on toast.
Whilst I was at reception a lady came in with a large Labrador. And I mean large. She had bought a GPS type device which you attach to the dog's collar and when the dog is running loose in the park you can track where he is.
The device was not working. I discovered the battery had run down. To charge it all you have to do is link a wire/cable with a USB connection at both ends - one end goes in the GPS device on the dog's collar, whilst the other end goes into the USB port/connection on the laptop computer. Electricity from the laptop goes through the wire and charges the battery in the GPS device.
All went well. I could see the GPS device light on and off to show it was charging.
Then another lady came into the vet with her cat in hand. The dog saw it and barked. The cat bolted out of the vet's and into the street. The dog followed in pursuit taking with him the laptop which was still attached by the cable to the GPS device.
One moment I was typing happily, the next the laptop vanished from the receptionist's desk and out in the street. I could no longer book appointments when clients rang in.
A pseudo car chase ensued; only with no cars.
The cat ran out first, chased by the dog, followed by the laptop, then the cat owner, then the dog owner and finally me trying to catch up with them all.
Each one of us had a goal in mind. The cat wanted to save its life. The dog wanted the cat. the owner of the cat wanted her cat back, and the owner of the dog wanted her dog back ... whilst all I wanted was the laptop back to book an appointment for someone who'd just rang in.
My chameleon remained invisible watching the whole drama unfold.
We ran into the street. The cat crossed the road unaware of a pedestrian marked cross-walk not far away.
He was followed by the dog and the laptop bouncing on the ground at every opportunity.
A car stopped suddenly and was hit from behind by a bus full of elderly passengers. They all tumbled inside the vehicle like pins in a ten-pin bowling alley.
I waited patiently and lawfully at the traffic lights until it was time for me to cross.
The two ladies were arguing with each other using language I will not repeat here because I don't know how to spell some of the words they used in their animated conversation.
Eventually, we crossed the road and into the park opposite. The cat had gone up a tree. The dog was at its foot barking like mad whilst the laptop had now given up the ghost and lay in pieces all over the place.
I left the two ladies to get their pets whilst I collected as many pieces of laptop as I could and put them in my pocket. I did not realise there were so many keys/button on the keyboard; and also so many bits that fell out from the insides of the laptop.
I was still picking up the pieces when a Park Attendant turned up and fined me £100 for littering the park. I told him it was not me but the cat ... or the dog ... or their owners' fault; but he would not listen.
Somehow the two ladies got their pets back and went their own way. I was the only one there with bits of laptop everywhere. Not a convincing argument for the Park Attendant.
I went back to the vet's in the hope of putting the laptop together with strong glue. It was a wasted exercise.
The vet, (wrongly), blamed me for the whole incident. He asked me to pay for a new laptop, plus loss of business whilst I was out chasing the runaway laptop, and also loss of goodwill and future business from the two ladies in question.
I told him it was not my fault. My chameleon agreed. What do you think?
NOTE: For amusement purposes only. No cats, dogs or laptops have been harmed in the writing of this story. Only a self-bitten vet's leg.
I did not get the job. Turned out I was in the wrong place.
So I walked home all dejected and forlorn. Or was it forlorn and dejected?
I looked behind me and discovered I was being followed by a Labrador dog. Perhaps he too had been to the wrong interview. Perhaps he wanted to be a racing horse. Or maybe he was a plain-clothed police dog.
I stopped. He stopped. I started walking again. He followed. I walked faster. So did he. Faster still. He pursued. I ran. He ran too.
I quickly stopped and jumped into a parked taxi. Fooled him.
I told the driver to just drive anywhere in circles and bring me back ten or so minutes later to the same place. He thought I was odd. He tutted and obeyed.
Eventually he dropped me off just by the library. As I got out, another taxi drew up and the dog got out.
How ... how did that happen? What kind of a dog is that?
The driver of the second car got out. He said he saw the dog running after me and assumed I'd left him behind in my hurry. So he brought him to me. He insisted I paid him or he'll teach me a ballet move that has yet to be invented.
I told the dog to sit. He obeyed and I entered the library to hide from him.
The librarian asked if she could help me. I said, "I'm being followed!"
She offered to ring the police. I explained I was followed by a dog; then just as an excuse I asked for the first book that came to mind.
"Have you a book on paranoia?" I asked.
"It's behind you!" she said.
I jumped out of my skin. There behind me was a book on the shelf entitled "BOOOH !!!" by I M Startled.
I took the book and walked out. The dog was there standing on his hind legs, tail wagging and licking the face of an old lady. She explained that the dog had escaped his lead in the park and she'd been looking for him for the last half-an-hour.
She was so pleased to have found him.
I was so pleased to have lost him.
Why does life sometimes has a habit of making one bad thing follow another on and on like a chain of disasters?
Once upon a time there was a man walking in the park enjoying a packet of potato chips. As he was walking by the lake, looking at the various fowl there and eating his potato chips he inadvertently walked into a low lying branch so hard that it nearly knocked him unconscious.
He was so dazed by the hit in the head that he dropped his food on the ground and walked around not knowing where he was going. He stumbled and fell in the lake.
The sudden shock of being in cold water revived him enough to make him relieve himself and reminded him that he could not swim. He spluttered and splashed here and there trying to remain afloat as his life, past as well as future, flashed quickly before him.
This attracted a swan nearby which was swimming with her newly born family. She did what comes naturally and attacked the drowning man by jumping on his head, thus pushing him further underwater, and pecking him here there and everywhere. But mostly there!
Somehow, in this watery struggle, the man managed to crawl slowly ashore and pull himself out of the lake. But not before the swan pecked him there one more time.
He stood up, still dazed and confused, yet also very wet and shivering cold, not to mention smelling of rotten dead fish and vegetation as one would find in the bottom of a lake or pond.
As he made his way here and there, but nowhere in particular, he seemed to have attracted the attention of a small pack of dogs which were running loosely in the park. He hurried away quickly which excited the three or four dogs which gave chase at what they thought was a fun game to partake in.
As he sped away he stumbled and slipped as the dogs caught up with him barking and jumping and biting playfully here and there. But mostly there.
He tried to fight them off which they eventually did when called by their owners, but not before tearing his clothes to shreds.
Moments later, he came across a park ranger who, seeing his clothes in tatters, did not believe his story and accused him of indecent exposure. Fortunately, at that point two of the stray dogs came running by and one of them bit the park ranger in the leg.
And the moral of the story is: Do Not Eat Potato Chips.
Zee first one is eazy to getting you started.
Who painted zees painting in blue? A clue: Zere was a song zat started "Starry, starry night. Paint your palette blue and gray ..." by Don ze McLean about zees artist.
Now anozer zee quiz for you:
OK ... zee grey cells are doing zee working. 'Ere is another question:
No idea? Eet eez a close-up photo of my ginger cat. Veree close up!
OK ... an eazy one zees time. Write down what do you see in zees picture.
Can you spot ten differences between zees two pictures?
Alors mes amis ... you do not know zee answer? Zen stand on your 'ead!
If you got it right, you deserve a banana.
Here is the algebra for those of you more clever than me:
R+C+D=X
R+C=10
R+D=20
D+C=24
D=24-C
R+24-C=20
R+4=C
R+C=10
C=10-R
R+4=10-R
2R=6
R=3
C=10-3=7
D=20-3=17
D+C+R=X
17+7+3=27 KG!
And now a final one to keep the brain working:
Have you noticed in supermarkets how pet foods are stacked on shelves? Over here they put the food according to the height of the animal. The dog foods are placed at eye level so you notice them as you walk down the aisle. Cat foods are lower down. Food for fish and birds are on the bottom shelves. It's quite a task getting food for giraffes.
A friend's Golden Labrador has sadly died. He is quite wealthy, the friend not the dog. So in order to remember the dog, he went to a jeweller and asked him to make a statue of the dog in gold so he can keep it on the mantle-piece.
The jeweller asked, "18 carats?"
"No," my friend replied, "eating bones of course!"
Another friend has lost his dog. They were in the park and the dog got off its lead and ran away. I suggested he puts an advert in the newspaper, also posters all over the area which he could stick on trees, notice boards and such like.
A few days later and he still did not find his dog.
I asked him what he had written on the advert and posters.
He replied, "Here boy!"
I got an e-mail from a friend in Australia. He is a shepherd. Whilst he was out with his dog in the fields shepherding his flock a crocodile came out of a swamp and bit his leg!
I sympathised and e-mailed back, "which one?"
He said, "I dunno sport! You see a crocodile and you've seen them all!"
He explained he did not lose his leg but he was in hospital for treatment. I e-mailed "Antibiotics?"
He replied, "No ... but uncle Biotics came to see me instead!"
One day when the delivery man came round the dog barked at him. As the man ran away he dropped his hat and the dog chewed it.
The man complained to my friend. My friend smiled and said, "It's only a hat, mate! No harm done."
The delivery man replied, "I don't like your attitude!"
To which my friend said, "It's not my hat he chewed, it's your hat he chewed!"
The old man who lives in the house behind us ... his back garden backs onto our back garden ... well, he must have got a little puppy for company. I was digging my garden and saw the little dog in his garden. He chose a silly name for his dog, I thought. He called him "Help!"
All day yesterday, I could hear the old man shouting "Help! Help!" Eventually, he must have found him because he stopped calling.
This morning, whilst I was out buying a newspaper, I saw an ambulance outside the old man's house.
(It's a joke folks ... a joke ... no dogs have been harmed in the writing of this post!)
When I got to work this morning my secretary was crying her heart out. She did no work at all. Apparently her dog had died. She showed me his photo.
I wanted her to get on with her work. So to stop her crying, I took the photo and went out and bought her an identical dog. When she saw it she cried some more.
Now she has two dead dogs!
(It's another joke ... I did not buy her a dead dog ... you are a tough audience you lot!"
They say that one thing that distinguish us from animals is that we have opposable thumbs. Opposable thumbs means that our thumb can bend and touch all the other fingers. So we can hold things, small things, we can eat with one hand, and we can do many things animals cannot. There are of course many animals with opposable thumbs, but they cannot touch all their other fingers with their thumbs.
Try picking up a single grain of rice, or lentil, or a KFC leg with your thumb and index finger and tell your dog, "See ... I can do this and you cannot!"
Actually, I think many animals are just not smart, regardless of whether they have opposable thumbs or not. Try teaching your dog to say "Pretty Polly!" You'd be wasting your time. And you don't need any thumbs to say "Pretty Polly!"
When I point to his bed and tell my dog, "Go to bed!" he looks at my finger instead of his sleeping-couch. That is stupid.
He is so stupid he lost three out of five games of chess against me. He can never remember that the bishop moves sideways on the board. That's dumb.
Try teaching a cat to fetch a ball when you throw it in the park. Another waste of time. When I take it off its lead it just runs away.
We've had our cat since it was a small kitten. It is black, and now rather big. He's as big as a large dog like an Alsatian at least. He eats about two kilos of meat a day and sits there growling.
I took it for a walk once and it climbed up a tree dragging me behind him holding on to his lead. It was a pine type tree and I got cut up and bruised with all the needles and sharp branches. That's a stupid cat indeed.
Some people think that speaking to animals gently and quietly will help teach them. Believe me, it does not seem to work. They are too dumb to understand.
A friend of mine wanted to prove that animals are really smart and can understand humans. He says, or claims, he was a horse whisperer. He believed he could calm a horse by approaching it slowly and quietly speak to it. He also wanted to be a lion whisperer. An ambition he achieved just a few minutes before his tragic death.
Some animals provide us with food. I've already mentioned KFC. Once at a restaurant I had an elephant steak. It has a taste you'll never forget.
As a side dish I also had rhinoceros cutlets. When I got out of the restaurant I started head-butting Jeeps and charging at people.
I used to be an amateur dramatic actor. A member of a small troupe who performed locally in various venues.
Being a perfectionist, I liked to dress in full
costume beforehand and rehearse my lines in front of a full length mirror.
On one occasion I played the part of one of the mice that turn into horses in the
Cinderella story.
So I took my costume home and put it on; then I stood
there in front of the mirror looking like a giant mouse.
The cat came in and AHHH!!!! He was totally frightened out of his nine lives.
He thought one of the many mice he has been chasing in the past had come back for revenge. He climbed madly on top of the wardrobe and would not come down … shaking to death he was.
The dog usually half-asleep in front of the TV woke up suddenly upon hearing the cat’s commotion.
He looked at me and decided there’s no way he’d let a giant mouse usurp his territory. He started growling … I tried to calm him down … but he pounced toppling me onto the ground and biting me in several unmentionable places.
Animals are dumb ... opposable thumbs or not.
I went to see a dog psychiatrist the other day. I did not even know there were such things as dog psychiatrists. She was a nice lady. She asked me how I was. I said, "you know ... it's a dog's life these days!"
She seemed concerned. She asked me, "how long have you felt like that?"
I said, "ever since I was a puppy!"
She said, "get on the couch."
I told her I was not allowed on the couch.
She asked me if I sleep well at night. Do I stay awake. Unable to sleep. Do I have nightmares. Do I howl at the moon.
She then said, "my husband is a psychiatrist too. He helps people, as opposed to animals which I do. Would you be interested in a group session? My husband and I, and you and your wife?"
I'm not so sure about that. I don't think having all four of us in bed together is a good idea, do you?
She then turned her attention to our dog Fetch. She asked me why I called him Fetch. I said it is to distinguish him from our other dog, Sit.
She said they were unusual names for dogs. "What did you call your children?" she asked.
"Hey you and Shut up," I replied.
She noticed that my dog had a calming effect on people. She took him out in the yard and put him with a massive ferocious Alsatian which was barking and growling all the time. I thought he'd eat our little Fetch. Instead, the Alsatian whimpered and sat down, yawned, and seemed to go to sleep. Our dog sat next to him.
She tried the same thing with another dog. A yappy little poodle jumping up and down like a demented fish. As soon as she put Fetch in the cage the poodle settled down calmly.
Same thing with two Dobermen. A Boxer and a Greyhound.
"What an amazing dog you have," she said, "he seems to have a calming effect on other dogs."
And that's how my dog now works for her, three days a week, as a Counselor. She puts him with other dogs who seem to become docile and gentle in his company. Maybe he talks to them. I don't know. He is earning more than me as a Counselor telling other dogs what they want to hear.
She suggested I take our dog Fetch to bed at night. "Many people sleep with their pets," she said, "it might help you sleep."
Definitely not for me. I once took my pet to bed with me. The next morning the bed was totally wet and my goldfish had died.
Well it all started some years ago when a man from a pet charity came knocking at our door. Can't remember the name of the charity, but he asked me if I would like to sponsor a cat.
I asked him, "What will it do?"
He did not understand, so I explained, "you want me to sponsor a cat, will it run the marathon? Go on a diet and lose weight? Climb a mountain range? Eat broccoli for a year? What will it do?"
He said that it doesn't work like that. This sponsoring method is that I pay a given sum every month and the charity looks after the cat.
"What's in it for me?" I asked, "I seem to be out of pocket in this transaction!"
He said it's a charitable gift, tax deductible, I would get photos of the cat every now and then and a progress report how he is doing. I thought it was a waste of money. I might as well buy a cat. So they sold me a black cat called Snowy.
Unfortunately he was difficult to handle so we exchanged him for a white cat called Rover. Sadly, on a snowy winter he got run over by a snow plough. Perhaps we should have kept the black cat called Snowy instead.
So the charity gave us another cat. A ginger one called Albatross. He was very clever for a feline.
I lived in London at the time. In a tiny apartment.One day my boss said I had to go and work in Glasgow for three months. It was an urgent project and I had to fly there that very evening. There was no one to take care of my Albatross for that length of time so I decided to take it with me.
There was no time to make any arrangements so I looked on the internet and there's an organisation that can transport animals from one place to another for a fee. They took my cat and said they'll deliver him to me in two days' time.
Two days later, in Glasgow, they delivered a Golden Labrador dog called Pussycat.
"What the **** is that?" I asked the delivery man who could not put such a big dog through my letter box.
He looked at his delivery note and read, "A ginger cat called Albatross!"
"So?" I asked, "do you see a mistake here perhaps?"
He looked at the dog and said, "he's a bit big for a cat!"
"Of course he's big, he is not a cat," I said holding back my temper, "he is a Golden Labrador, not a damn cat!"
"Do you not want him?" he replied, "he is bigger than a cat, and very friendly. Saves me having to return him to the depot. Besides, this delivery note was in the cage he was in. It says ginger cat named Albatross. So he's definitely yours, look the address is correct as well!"
To cut a long story short, as you have guessed, someone at the depot had mistakenly put the wrong delivery notes on the cages. We got down to his delivery van. It was full of cages with rabbits, hamsters, guinea pigs, parrots, snakes, tortoises and other creatures due for delivery. And, you've guessed it again, all the delivery notes were on the wrong cages. The snake was labelled a parrot, the parrot was labelled a hamster and so on.
We found my ginger cat called Albatross. His delivery note said tortoise called Speedy to be delivered to a totally different address to mine.
I convinced the delivery man to give me my cat in exchange for the Labrador called Pussycat.
No one ever answers. Perhaps you will.
Years ago, when I lived in London, a neighbour phoned in the middle of the night, about 3:00am, and said, "Your dog barking is disturbing my sleep."
I said, "Sorry", meaning what are you talking about? Rather than being apologetic. I was half-asleep at the time.
The next morning, I remembered what happened and was upset, especially since I don't even have a dog. So at 3:00am the next night I phoned my neighbour and said, "I don't have a dog!"
When I moved to another house in London, the same thing, only different, happened again. A woman neighbour phoned me at night and said, "Your horse is in my garden!"
Rather stupidly, I replied, "Sorry!", like I did before.
The next morning I went to see her and I told her I have no horse. She said, "that's OK, it was only a nightmare!"
Horse ... nightmare ... get it? It comes to something when I have to explain my jokes.
When I moved up North I had a neighbour who imitated birds. I did not mind that she ate worms; but I got really annoyed when she pooped on my car!
Oh come on ... that was a good joke! You're a tough audience.
I was in my early twenties and lived in London. I got involved in politics and could have run for office locally. I used to spend a lot of time during elections knocking on doors and asking people if we could rely on their support; or answering any questions or problems they had in mind.
I remember once I was with another colleague. We knocked on a door and a young 15 year old opened. I asked, "Are your dad or mom in?"
He shouted upstairs and said, "Daaad ... there's a man to see you!"
A voice from upstairs replied, "Bring him up!"
My colleague decided to stay at the door. I followed the lad upstairs and he took me to a bedroom where a man and a woman were in bed.
He said, "Yeh ... what do you want?"
You can imagine a 22 year old talking politics with a couple who had other things on their minds.
On another occasion I was knocking at doors in an apartment block. As I was talking to a man at his door, I noticed a woman in her early thirties I would guess, walk up the stairs and say, "Hello Mr Farthing!" to the old gentleman I was talking to. He greeted her back, and she walked up the stairs to the level above.
After ten minutes or so talking to him; I walked up the stairs to the higher level. We had been taught always to be honest with the voters and give a true answer to questions asked; even though it would not be what the voter wants to hear. They respect an honest politician even if their views differ from our Party.
When I rang the door bell at the apartment above, the woman I saw before opened the door totally naked. She was wearing nothing but a smile. She had obviously seen me knocking at doors and had been waiting for me.
She said, "Yes ... what do you want?"
I was honest. I said, "I forgot ..." and ran away.
Politics taught me a lot!!!!!!
For the past few days I have noticed things moving around the house. It's as if we have a poltergeist all of a sudden. For example, the other day I left Aunt Elma in the living room watching TV and I went out to work in the garden for an hour or two. When I got back she had moved. She was in the kitchen. How did that happen?
I also left my cup in my office after finishing my coffee and ten minutes later it was washed and in the cupboard. That's never happened before. And the newspapers and magazines seem to have been picked off the floor and placed neatly in the paper rack next to the TV.
I have not mentioned this to Aunt Elma because I do not want to spook her and frighten her to death.
I went out to the shops and when I came back I found the house had been vacuum cleaned, the washing all done in the kitchen and the washing machine working on another load of laundry. The flower pots had been watered. The dog fed, the cat fed, the litter tray cleaned, the fish tank refreshed with new water and the fish fed, and a hot pie cooking in the oven.
I was about to mention all this to Aunt Elma but she was snoozing on the armchair in front of the TV. She doesn't seem to be doing much since she's been here. Just watching TV and sleeping. I don't want to say a thing and upset her feelings. You would have thought that as a guest she would help around a bit. But no ... she has not lifted a finger.
If it was not for the ghost that has suddenly invaded our home I'd be in a right mess. I'd thought of ringing the priest to exorcise the house but thought better of it. The chances are he'd take the ghost to clean his place instead. So for now I am keeping quiet.