Crossed Wires

My mum was on the phone to my Granny.

This is her mother - not my Grandma who sadly passed away a few months ago (my mum may possess the ability to make wonderful jam, identify bird's by their song and fold clothes in 'just the right way', but she can not, as yet, conduct telephone calls with the dead).

Granny has always been slightly confused by our side of the family (even before she got old). She used to flap around our kitchen in a right old state shouting that the 'fowls are in! The fowls are in the kitchen! THE FOWLS ARE IN!' whenever the chickens appeared at the doorstep. Nobody ever did anything about the 'fowls' but each time she would try to elicit some kind of suitable response from us and get in a right old state about it. The only response she actually did manage to raise was that my brother and I made up a rap about her and her fowl obsession....... I would share it with you but I think it's best not to for reasons of anominity.

However I can tell you it's up there in terms of greatness with the marvelous dirge like song we composed about a guinea pig we had called (imaginatively) Guinea.

Here are the lyrics (concentrate now - they're complex. Note the emphasis on the word 'guinea'. I think you'll find it's complex and multi-faceted use give the song a depth and myriad of tones beyond it's initial appearance.....):

I bought a GUINEA pig called GUINEA for a GUINEA in GUINEA.
I bought a GUINEA pig called GUINEA for a GUINEA in GUINEA.
I bought a GUINEA pig called GUINEA for a GUINEA in GUINEA.
I bought a GUINEA pig called GUINEA for a GUINEA in GUINEA.
(repeat on into infinity or until the point that your mother is beating her head off the cooker and begging you to PLEASE STOP RIGHT THIS MINUTE. At this point you will stop but your younger brother won't and will chant your special guinea pig song on into the night and the following morning to the point that 20 odd years later it's STILL ringing round your head.........God I thought my kids were annoying).

Jeez I bet my mum regretted the naming of that guinea pig long and hard.

Anyway - my family confuses my granny (funny that) but after the phone conversation today I'm sure she's probably even more confused.

I could hear my mum giving my granny a phone number with a local code - which is odd as she lives on the other side of the country and couldn't think WHY she'd need to call anybody in our local town. My mum kept having to repeat this number and shout it down the phone so it was clearly important.

When my mum got off the phone I asked her what number it was that Granny needed.

'Yours' replied my mother.

'Erm, mum, that's not my number'.

'Oh'.

'It's nothing LIKE my number'.

'Oh dear'.

'Well aren't you going to call her back?'.

'Maybe later, I'd better walk the dogs........'.

'Have you given that number (whatever number it is) to anybody else!?'.

'I don't know'.

'Well can you make sure you don't!'.

'Come along WALKIES!'.

Sigh.

Maybe this is her passive aggressive way of getting me back for composing that song about Guinea?

Altogether now......

I BOUGHT A GUINEA PIG CALLED GUINEA.......

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