Friday, 14 September 2007

Waking to rocket-propelled rifts and italicised nuptials

Bessy woke (after we'd spent the last week in a splendidly blissful sleep) and acted in a manner that suggested she had dreamt of the correct positioning of an underprivileged canine in an over privileged society. This involved her removing a rather splendid mohair suit I keep hidden for special occasions, and fashioning it into a kite, to which she attached herself and flew off in the sunshine to inspect the shoreline.

She clearly hadn't been sharing my dream which involved the re-enactment of Margaret and my wedding some years earlier, which had involved the rather pleasant joining together of family members for a period of abstract reflection on the meaning of rocket-propelled Robin Reliants and the need for cohesive forces to keep soggy chips (French fries of a peculiarly fat and British sort, to any non-British readers) together. When I woke, I felt like calling up all the participants to say what a privilege it had been to have them all attend but Margaret had spent the week dreaming about the rights of those of poor repute to a life of privacy. So I didn't pick up the phone, in case any of those who attended the wedding had, by some means, fallen into disrepute.

Felix had not noticed my absence for the week owing to his recent conviction that all conversations and interactions barely touch reality anyway. Bessy sailed in and landed on his lap and he ruffled her ears. He said she was a different dog from the last time he'd seen her. I said she was the same dog but with a different view on her position in life. This proved his point, he said, and gave her a cup of tea, which she accepted with a wink in my direction.

George was standing in the waiting area of the surgery in the manner of a soggy chip that has learnt to italicise itself so that it can make a statement of profundity. It would appear that at some time in the past, George perfected this position whilst aboard a dhow in the Indian Ocean, for the benefit of some bored fishermen with a need for excitement. Despite there having never seen a soggy chip, George tells me the effect was transforming, until they were all italicised and no-one stood out. A rift began to open between the fishermen, but then George moved onto the un-italicised soggy chip and harmony was achieved again. It's always curious to me what people get up to on dhows.

Cookie was in a rift of her own, she told me, though I have no idea what she meant. However, in a spirit of goodwill after a week of nuptial reflections, I did fall in with her rhythm as we got into the swing of things after a week away from the surgery.

Which brings me back to the changes one sees in all manner of creature after a short period away. Though, if one is to follow Felix's line, it's difficult to be sure those creatures - human or otherwise - were there in the first place. But then, does it matter if, on reflecting about them, one brings back happy memories?

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