Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
As Mum's illness worsened, my sister Di and I had the heart-wrenching job of sorting
out her affairs and finding homes for her remaining two animals. We met up at her house
to pack and tie-up the loose ends.
“I'll take Biff,” I said, “but what about the cat?”
Mrs Chips (or 'The Grim Reaper' as we liked to call her) was an animal of extremely
bad character who was devoted to our Mum. She possessed what seemed to be steel claws
soldered on to paws which shot out like projectiles. These weapons regularly delivering in-
juries to passers-by, took the meaning of sadistic pleasure to a whole new level.
Surprisingly, she was adopted by the next-door neighbour who was oddly keen to have
her. He appeared the next morning to find her sitting on the window sill. Totally composed
as usual, she regarded him with the calm eyes of an assassin. Fortunately he had missed this
subtlety and, after a minor scuffle, left with a slightly bloodied nose and the cat stapled to
his chest. Ted was definitively a top bloke who had absolutely no idea what he was dealing
with, but we decided he'd soon learn.
Di and I celebrated 'Grim's' departure by going for a long walk with Sam and Biff.
This took us to the local pub which was running a quiz night, so we decided to have a go.
As we piled in, the landlord observed, “Lovely collie, duck - feed 'im well, do yer?
Birr on t'hefty side if yer ask me.”
Here was an occasion where clarification was required.
“He's not a collie,” I said, slightly miffed. “He's an Australian Shepherd and he's
sup-
posed
to be that size. Australian Shepherds are very different from collies - probably more
versatile, extremely intelligent and …
ow!
”
Di, having heard this useful explanation before (and also the full script), gave me a
sharp poke in the ribs.
“Look,” she hissed, “the pub's going to close eventually, cut it short, would you?”
I reluctantly gave up and went inside. Di then bought us a glass of wine each and I
ordered scampi and chips
,
which, shortly after, we munched hungrily in eager anticipation
of the competition.
To say that we weren't very successful at answering the questions would be something
of an understatement. Nevertheless, we blundered on regardless, enjoying the rapport with
our fellow contestants, many of whom were now succumbing to the effects of gallons of
real ale.
After an hour or so, the quiz came to an end. There was a stampede to the bar and then
it was back to swap answer sheets in preparation for the marking. We knew we may have
made 'the odd error' here and there but, by this stage, with most of us decidedly pink, this
didn't really matter. Di and I grandly decided that any wrong answers simply amounted to
a 'near miss', rather than a graphic display of general ignorance.
Unsurprisingly, despite Di almost ruining our team-partners' score sheet as she
thrashed around with the pencil, they still beat us. We came a very solid second-to-last.
