The eccentric father I mentioned in my last post is as incorrigible as ever. I just got back from walking the dog with him, and he was in fine form. As we pulled out of the driveway he said, “There’s a body buried under that garden, and he’s having a piddle.”
I did a double take and followed his gaze to see a pathetic trickle of a spray in the neighbour’s yard, watering a minute stump of a newly planted tree. Laughing, I told him he had quite the imagination. I guess I now know where I got my writer’s brain from!
During the walk he pointed to the side of the pathway we were on and announced, “There’s mushrooms over there.”
He knows I like to pick any edible ones we find so happily I lunged forward to claim them. And found myself looking at some lumps of dried horse dung that had turned white. Dad chortled, delighted I’d fallen for it.
He’s always had a sharp and witty sense of humour. Sometimes too sharp. But that’s another story … ;-)
