I call my Dad every Sunday night, a tradition of decades. So, did the usual, ring ring, went on forever and I'm thinking 'Jeez he's in bed early'. Finally phone picked up by my Stepmum, who was in bed, 'hang on I'll get him' she said.
So she screeches down the stairs 'it's your Carol' and they then carry on a loud argy bargy about where the downstairs phone is. This their normal mode of communication, go figure. Meantime, I'm still on the end of the line.
Finally get father, who thought the ringing noise was coming from the telly (poor Stepmum locked in same hearing aid H*ll as me). So we have conversation, sort of, with interjections of, 'I don't know where it is you're the one always on the phone to your pals', so he's having 2 conversations. So, having established he wasn't about to snuff it and all was ok I said night night.
So they spend the next hour looking for this house phone, calling it from their mobile and they can hear it ringing but still can't locate it. UNTIL, they opened the front door and the ringing noise was coming from the charity bag left at the end of the drive for pick up.
Oops, big red face for Stepmum - she emailed me and said it killed her having to apologise to him. No mess allowed in her house, no excess, anywhere, someone uses the loo, she cleans it, no papers, cupboards immaculate everywhere.
One triumphant father.
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Nobody told me there'd be days like these,
Nobody told me there'd be days like these,
Strange days indeed, strange days indeed,
Most peculiar Mamma.....................................
