Some days I wish I was grown in a test tube.
Spent the last hour pissing around with dying laptops and TalkTalk disks trying to get my mother (okay, and me) temporary internet access until her shiny new computer arrives next week. Worth the effort, as it turns out, and I shall type very quickly before the damn thing bluescreens me again. Some things just have to be shared.
My Dad phoned me up this morning, started whittering on about where he'd moored his boat north of Coventry miles from anywhere and how he'd got his chainsaw out to harvest firewood. I tuned him out at that point because these anecdotes usually end with 'and I saw a most unusual six hundred year old beech coppice'. Also, I was wrestling with cables and trying to concentrate. When I tuned him in again he was saying 'and what do Emus eat anyway?'
'Huh?'
'What do they eat? It doesn't seem to want bread or rice and-'
'Did you say emu?'
'Yes. It seems awfully hungry. I don't want to leave it here but it won't get on the boat.'
'There's an emu and you invited it on to your boat?'
'Well I can't stay here all day. Can you get someone to come and pick it up?'
'Emu? What? And why are you asking me?'
'My modem's not getting a signal. Didn't you used to work for the RSPCA?'
'Uh... No.'
'Are you sure? You-'
'I'm sure. It was a dog sanctuary, extremely light on emus. Also, fifteen years ago.'
'Well you'll have to do something. It must be someone's pet, it's very friendly.'
'You're a hundred miles away. There's an emu. Why are you calling me?' [Actually, I have no clue how far apart Coventry and Oxford are. Probably a long way.]
'Well I don't know anything about emus.'
'I watched Rod Hull as a child, does that help?'
'Not really. I wasn't planning on sticking my hand up it's arse.' [I realise sentence will sound strange to anyone not English. Think I shall let you wonder.]
Then there's noises and a large splash. Dial tone. Couple minutes later he phones back.
'It knocked my geraniums in the canal. Have you phoned the RSPCA yet?'
'Is it still an emu?'
'You're not being very helpful, are you?'
'There's an emu. What do you want me to do?'
'Well phone the RSPCA. Obviously. I don't have the number.'
Because now I'm yellow pages and also Google. My conversation with the nice lady at the RSPCA went along similar lines. 'Did you say emu? Are you sure? It couldn't be a black swan?' It was when I mentioned that I hadn't actually seen it she got really sceptical. And never phoned back. Presumably my call got put in the same file as the people who report the yeti living at the bottom of their garden. Fortunately for all a young man came to collect his emu and several others that had escaped through a hole in a fence. Apparently they were farming them. Presumably for families with really big ovens, for when a turkey just isn't enough.
Things I have learnt today: My mother is not the only parent I have who's completely loopy.
Sha'n't be around the next couple weeks because I'm seriously sick of computers that don't work properly. I'll be over there, smashing looms.
My Dad phoned me up this morning, started whittering on about where he'd moored his boat north of Coventry miles from anywhere and how he'd got his chainsaw out to harvest firewood. I tuned him out at that point because these anecdotes usually end with 'and I saw a most unusual six hundred year old beech coppice'. Also, I was wrestling with cables and trying to concentrate. When I tuned him in again he was saying 'and what do Emus eat anyway?'
'Huh?'
'What do they eat? It doesn't seem to want bread or rice and-'
'Did you say emu?'
'Yes. It seems awfully hungry. I don't want to leave it here but it won't get on the boat.'
'There's an emu and you invited it on to your boat?'
'Well I can't stay here all day. Can you get someone to come and pick it up?'
'Emu? What? And why are you asking me?'
'My modem's not getting a signal. Didn't you used to work for the RSPCA?'
'Uh... No.'
'Are you sure? You-'
'I'm sure. It was a dog sanctuary, extremely light on emus. Also, fifteen years ago.'
'Well you'll have to do something. It must be someone's pet, it's very friendly.'
'You're a hundred miles away. There's an emu. Why are you calling me?' [Actually, I have no clue how far apart Coventry and Oxford are. Probably a long way.]
'Well I don't know anything about emus.'
'I watched Rod Hull as a child, does that help?'
'Not really. I wasn't planning on sticking my hand up it's arse.' [I realise sentence will sound strange to anyone not English. Think I shall let you wonder.]
Then there's noises and a large splash. Dial tone. Couple minutes later he phones back.
'It knocked my geraniums in the canal. Have you phoned the RSPCA yet?'
'Is it still an emu?'
'You're not being very helpful, are you?'
'There's an emu. What do you want me to do?'
'Well phone the RSPCA. Obviously. I don't have the number.'
Because now I'm yellow pages and also Google. My conversation with the nice lady at the RSPCA went along similar lines. 'Did you say emu? Are you sure? It couldn't be a black swan?' It was when I mentioned that I hadn't actually seen it she got really sceptical. And never phoned back. Presumably my call got put in the same file as the people who report the yeti living at the bottom of their garden. Fortunately for all a young man came to collect his emu and several others that had escaped through a hole in a fence. Apparently they were farming them. Presumably for families with really big ovens, for when a turkey just isn't enough.
Things I have learnt today: My mother is not the only parent I have who's completely loopy.
Sha'n't be around the next couple weeks because I'm seriously sick of computers that don't work properly. I'll be over there, smashing looms.