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En famille, or do I mean infamy?
All a bit hectic at the moment, as my three long-lost cousins from Canada have come to stay.
They’re identical triplets, they tell me, which isn’t something you’d ever guess, as one of them looks old enough to be the mother of the other two, one of whom strongly resembles a Chinaman. Just goes to show, eh?
Have to admit I wasn’t aware of having any cousins at all in Canada, let alone long-lost ones, but as they reasonably pointed out to me, cousins who’ve been lost for a sufficiently long period do tend to get forgotten about.
What’s more, they’ve shown me a complicated chart that proves their story one hundred percent, and although I’m not sure I understood everything they were telling me about it, and it did look remarkably like an obsolete map of the London Underground railway network, as far as I’m concerned no member of my family would ever tell a lie, and that’s good enough for me.
They’ve all moved into my bedroom, so I have to sleep in the cat-litter tray, and they’re great fans of heavy metal, which means I’m not making as much progress with my monograph on Sir Ninian Comper as I’d hoped, and two of them have a rare food allergy and can eat only pâté de fois gras fried in crčme de menthe, which doesn’t leave much change out of my ex-forces pension, but blood’s thicker than water and there’s nothing like family and I just have to be there for them, don’t I? Otherwise they’ll slag me off in their memoirs, which is what they did to the last twelve cousins they went to stay with.
It’s four a.m. and they’ve temporarily ceased lobbing rocks at the greenhouse, so better get my head down while I can. Wouldn’t be without ’em though, would we?
WILLIE LUPIN said…
Leave the sentimentalisation of 'family' to characters in Eastenders and tell them to f**k off.
TOASTY replied…
I feel you’re being slightly unfair here. It isn’t only Eastenders characters who sentimentalise ‘family’ – it’s such venerated moral teachers as, um, Margaret Thatcher and, er, the Mafia.
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