Today was a visit to mum’s. And with every visit to mum’s there’s a to-do list which we can’t read because her handwriting is terrible. That’s not a slight on her writing skills post-stroke. It was crap before. Now it’s the same, but smaller.
The list, though, required me to venture into the loft. She had written “mice?” twice on her list, convinced that she had heard the sound of traps slamming shut as she lay in bed. But also convinced that she might actually have exploding head syndrome as well.
So into the loft I went to inspect all the mousetraps. None of them contained mice. They all contained the poison-laden peanut butter and nothing else. You can’t go too close to the traps, you have to observe them from a distance – not because they’re in hard to reach places but because they tend to go off (in a way which scares the shit out of you) if you even so much as look at them. The weight of a gaze is enough to trigger them, so imagine what a mouse would do.
Anyway, finding no mice I set to on a bit of a rummage. I was looking for a couple of things which mum wanted. I didn’t find all of it because it’s like a junk shop up there.
But I did find an erotic book.
Which was both intriguing and worrying.
It was amongst a pile of stuff made up things of my parents’ and things from my grandma. So I had no idea who to attribute this bit of porn lit to. I mean, neither option is particularly great, though.
So, naturally, I took a picture of it and stuck it on Instagram. My sister commented, summing up how we all felt, with a simple “fucking hell!”
It turns out the book belongs to my parents. The story mum told is that it was ordered by dad because it was free from Reader’s Digest or something. They must have been doing a saucy line, or something, because all the other Reader’s Digest books I’ve ever seen in our house have been those condensed books ones and none of them had tits and bums in them.
So the book came and, by the sounds of it, dad gave it a good read and then advised my mum not to proceed further than chapter one.
“He told me he’d thrown it away,” she said. “Well, now I know why he kept going up into the loft…”