Monday, 9 November 2009

Mr Mussel

So, being a diligent and helpful daughter, I agreed to go and fetch my dad’s dry cleaning from Morrisons (it’s all rock and roll and champagne lifestyle here I tell thee).

This being a ‘very helpful thing to do’ I wasn’t expecting my mother to go all bulgy eyed and twitchy and start making odd jerking movements. Movements which indicated ‘stop talking and come outside’ (either that or she was suffering withdrawal from the Chardonnay).

I went outside (slightly intrigued I have to say – Morrisons doesn’t normally provoke quite such fervent excitement).

It appeared there was a problem.

My mother (who refuses to put her glasses on unless she’s fulfilling her daily Suduko fix) had thrown away the dry cleaning ticket. She hadn’t (technically) lost it because she knew exactly where it was. She had mistaken it for a redundant receipt and tossed into the kitchen bin.

Unfortunately, shortly after this, we’d had mussels for dinner and thus approximately 105 mussel shells and various other fishy detritus were sitting on top of it. She was sure she could retrieve it (given time, rubber gloves and, presumably, a strong stomach) but she needed to do so without ‘father’ noticing – or else there would be a rumpus. A large one. Mainly focusing on her lack of eye-glass wearing and general ineptitude at life, the universe and everything. This ‘rumpus’ would run and run and in fact probably become part of family legend (under the heading ‘the day your bloody mother threw away the dry cleaning receipt because she refuses to acknowledge she needs glasses’). We could do without such drama.

And so it was that my mother smuggled the kitchen bin bag out into the street, concealed herself behind some conifers and ferreted around until she found it.

This is what 30 years of marriage (can) do for you.

Crisis averted.

All I had to do was hand the fishy offering to the dry cleaning shop, smile and pray.


So you see it’s not just my kids that cause me embarrassment. It’s also my parents.

Sandwiched between the two you can kind of see how it's all ended up the way it has.......

1 comment:

  1. Ha, that's very funny, I can picture your mother now, going through the garbage. Poor thing. You tell it well.