guthrie

Tucked Up Neatly - Deidre on the Divan

 

     I SUPPOSE IT WAS nearly quarter past three when I scuttled into the parlour and noticed Deidre staring dreamily into the mesmeric glow of the reading lamp. She had eaten her book and was passing the time by slowly trying to damage her eyesight in the glare of the dancing flame.

     "Oh, go up to bed!" I shouted. My harsh outburst was startling in the nocturnal solitude, but yelling was necessary, as Deidre had eaten her other book the previous evening and had spent the remainder of the night slowly damaging her hearing by sticking hatpins in her ears. 

     "What a woman", I remember thinking as I walloped her one and scuttled out again.