This week, readers, we go … underneath my sofa! Do not be afraid. I, stern of brow and stout of heart, shall be your guide.
On our journey, we shall meet nine pens, an orange, six or seven peanuts, a lot of fluff and … a dragon’s claw clutching a pearl. Pretty impressive, what?
Of the pens, I have little to say beyond complaint. Like many objects in my ken, particularly small DIY tools, instinctively they dive for the floor, there to roll over and over like Ninja warriors till they reach a place out of sight.
Periodically, I buy packets of pens and, within weeks, most will have disappeared. Like most decent citizens, I don’t even use them much any more. The most creative thing I write with a pen is a shopping list.
When I get them home, I take them out of the packet, put them in a specially designated jar whence, as soon as I leave the room, they say, “Quick, let’s hide under the sofa!” It’s their version of The Great Escape’s tunnel.
As for the orange, I must have brought it through to eat, then become distracted, whereupon it took the opportunity to leg it. I can imagine becoming aware of its absence and returning to the kitchen to see if I’d left it there, perhaps absent-mindedly sticking it in the microwave.
But, no, it isn’t there. I just can’t find it. I rage at the gods: “Why do you taunt me like this? How can an orange just disappear?” So, life goes on.
The peanuts will just have been normal spillage for someone incapable of getting provender from packet or plate to mouth without suffering considerable losses.
Fluff baffles me. It seems to create itself. It’s rather scary. Wikipedia says only that it is “anything light, soft or fuzzy, like Rabs’ brain”. I added a bit there. Wikipedia doesn’t mention “soft”.
I looked up “dust” too, as my house is frequently coated in it, and I don’t know what it is. It says here that it comes from “various sources” such as soil, volcanic eruptions and burnt meteor particles. But I’ve just looked round the sitting-room, and there are none of these here.
Ah-ha: it then adds “human skin cells”. It must be me. I’m falling to bits. I’m all over the mantelpiece and on the shelves. It’s a chilling thought.
Perhaps, in my bombshell second paragraph above, it was the dragon’s claw that chilled your blood. Do not be alarmed. The pearl-clutching claw is from a little model dragon that I bought from an esoteric shop selling Oriental gewgaws in the Far East.
By that, I mean East Lothian. In the town of Musselburgh there, I purchased from little shop all manner of peculiar mythical creatures, Taoist statuettes, fans and clanging bells. Don’t judge me.
How I managed to break off a dragon’s claw, and how it ended up under the sofa, is beyond me. But I’ve glued it back on, and peace has been restored.
Meanwhile, I have begun to suspect that a little troll lives under the sofa and has been nicking my pens and peanuts. It only had to ask. I shall write it a little note to that effect, and keep you posted if there is a reply.
