Cat Asylum

“Sit down, Lexie.”

“Do we really have to do this?”

“No. But remember that contract you signed? Before we went to South America. The one signed in blood?”

“OK. Get on with your stupid photos. Only another week to go on that contract, remember. Then there’ll be no more of this bullshit.”

“Bollocks, Lexie. That’s what us Brits say.”

“Fuck off with that bollocks, Dad.”

“Much better. Let’s get on with the snaps. Uncle David’s new shed.”

“The most exciting ones first, eh, Dad.”

“What about the apples?”

“They were more impressive.”

“Such a shame Uncle David is allergic to apples. He can’t get within ten feet of the tree. That’s over four metres.”

“That’s crap in so many ways, Dad.”

“That’s me: great at multitasking.”

“That’s that. We’re thatting done.

“Jerk chicken and rice and peas at Uncle Dave’s was a good Sunday dinner. Not as hot as last year, though. That was about at the limit of what I can eat with pleasure.”

“Not hot enough for me.”

“Very tasty, though?”

“Sure.”

“Next we jump to Uncle Henry’s”

“He’s not our uncle, Dad.”

“Crazy old man Henry’s, then”

“That’s better.”

“And cask beer.”

“That again. He has lots of old crap there. Like that.”

“I won’t argue with that. Who knows what all those old weird tools are.”

“Probably used for torture.”

“I’m sure they could be. The rust would make them especially frightening.”

“What was his cider like?”

“Pretty good.”

“Not too fancy for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Too craft.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Made by men with beards.”

“That’s a bit sexist.”

“OK. People with beards.”

“That’s even worse.”

“Next there are loads of photos of the brewery and outbuildings. Dead interesting.”

 

“In your opinion.”

“That’s the only one that counts.”

“Do you have any more interesting photos?”

I’ve some of Henry’s garden.”

“Anything else?”

“Photos of the other people drinking at Henry’s. And Andrew.”

“Who wants to look at photos of people?”

“Exactly. That’s what I keep telling your Mum.”