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Stan was happy for a few moments when he woke up.Then he realized Emile was not anywhere to be seen.Mary had already gone out as she wanted to catch a very early train to London.She needed to visit the British Library.She urgently wanted to find evidence that Wittgenstein wore a hat in bed.
Stan went searching around the house but Emile had vanished.Usually at 8 am he would be dashing about pretending to chase flies and giving a balletic performance worthy of Sadler’s Wells.
I wonder who Sadler was,Stan muttered as he filled the kettle with fresh water and put some Earl Grey tea into the teapot.
Then, a strange feeling came over him.He looked up and there was Emile
crouched on top of the highest cupboard in the kitchen.
Emile,he cried,What are you doing up there?
I’m training to be a spy,Emile replied nonchalantly.
But how could this kitchen be of interest to the Intelligence Services?
Well,the cat murmured,I am practising hiding.
You gave me a terrible shock,Stan said.I had this feeling I was being watched.I wondered if it was paranoia.Then I saw your gleaming eyes.
So,I need to get some dark glasses,Emile said.
No,I would still feel that horrible feeling.And how were you planning to get down from that high ledge?
I’m not sure,the cat mioawed faintly
Well,the first lesson for a spy or even a detective is,
Never go anywhere unless you can make a quick exit,
As it is,I may have to ring 999.
Just then the front doorbell rang.There stood a man with a white beard and moustache.
Hello,he said holding out his hand to shake Stan’s.
I am called Peter Fried.I have just moved into one of the new flats across the road.I am a psychoanalyst.I have taken on another flat to use as a consulting room and a waiting room
A psychoanalyst! Do we need one round here? Well,Good morning,I have just brewed some tea.Would you like to join me?
How kind,said Peter.
I say,old bean,did you know there’s a cat on top of your cupboard?
Yes,that is Emile.Today he has surpassed himself in wickedness.How I will get him down I don’t know.
My training analyst used to say,What goes up must eventually come down.
That seems a bit weird for an analyst.To what was he referring… something to do with sex I don’t doubt.It’s all sex with you people.
Yes, some of us are very peculiar…that’s why we enter the profession.
What I meant was,if Emile got up he can get down.How did you get up,Emile?
I leaped,answered the tense animal.
Can you leap down?
I’ve lost my nerve,replied the poor creature softly.
Well, as it happens,being a therapist,I always carry few sparwe nerves with me.I’ll climb up this stepladder and pass you a new nerve.
And without waiting,Peter climbed the ladder.He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a golden thread.
Here you are,Emile,Catch this in your claw.
Emile caught the golden thread and wrapped it around his neck.
Can you leap down now? enquired Stan.
Emile leaped down and landed in a bowl of hot water in the sink.
It’s a good thing I wasn’t making chips,laughed Stan.
Come here,Emile and let me dry you on this old towel.He put Emile
in front of the fire and he and Peter drank mugs of Earl Grey tea.
I have got a mistress,Stan told Peter.
Well,do you want therapy for your conflict?
Oh,no.I’m far too old for therapy or indeed for a mistress.I was wondering of you would perhaps be interested …she just likes to spend a little time with an intriguing man.. talking, drawing graphs, interpreting data,making tea,calling the ambulance.. you know what I mean.She likes the paramedic,Dave.
Is she not married?
No,her husband fell into the wheelie bin during the night and alas he was taken away with the rubbish.
That is a strange story.Are you certain?
No,it could be he grew tired of her and ran away.Then she invented this story,
Well,this may be a quiet suburb but I can see there is plenty of material here for me to write my next book:
Deceptive appearances and the fascination of apparent dullness.
Oh,that sounds very unusual.
Well,I’ve never believed in true dullness.There is always a story.
See,I’ve just met you a man of 98 yet you have a wife, a mistress and a crazy cat.. and I’ve only been here for one day.Imagine
what else I may discover here.
They heard a siren.
Oh,no!We’ve not even rung 999 and here is the ambulance….
Mary will be so angry..You see Dave is bisexual.
My goodness,are you having an affair with him.
No way,shouted Stan.My life is tough enough already.He can be bisexual or even trisexual but I’m not interested.
What does trisexual mean,enquired Emile.
I have no idea but I thought it sounded good,admitted Stan.
Peter stood up.
I think I’d better go home and start to see my patients.
Now Emile,put your nerve somewhere safe.We don’t want you to lose it again.
Thank you,darling cried Emile.I think I’ve formed an erotic transference with you already.
Peter rushed out.
Is it me or is it them?he wondered.
I thought it would be quiet here on the edge of Knittingham but I think now wherever you are there will always be something unexpected happening.But I hope Emile will not begin to follow me around.I shall have to buy a lady cat and then Emile might fall in love with her instead.So off Peter went whistling a Bach cello suite and wondering how to cope with life in a suburb.. clearly it was not as dull as he had imagined.
Day: July 3, 2023
The therapist and the cat.
Into the washing machine… therapy’s disasters
Peter Fried,the psychoanalyst newly arrived in Knittingham, had noticed that whilst he was practising “free floating attention”
with his patients an image of a cat peering in the window behind the couch was troubling him.He hoped it was not some hallucination transferred from the Unconscious of one of his patients into his consciousness.
Still,having a black cat looking in the window was by no means the most unpleasant optical illusion he had ever suffered.In a way,it was quite sweet.
He was back in his “home” flat boiling some eggs for his supper when the doorbell rang.He opened it cautiously with a sort of furtive excitement.There stood a strikingly attractive woman wearing a purple coat and a red hat with matching red ballet flats and a bright green designer handbag from TKMaxx.[£29.99 and well worth it]
Hello,I thought I’d introduce myself,I live across the street next door to Stan and Mary..my name is Anne..How are you settling in?
She walked confidently through his flat and into the new teak kitchen with its gleaming work surfaces and marble pastry rolling strip…. though Peter never made pastry himself.
Eggs!Are you a curry lover?By pure chance and serendipity I have a tin of vindaloo sauce here.I could pour it over these eggs.
Should we not remove the shells first?Peter asked with a just hint of humour.
Definitely,leave it to me.I’ve brought some naan bread and some brown rice too
How did you know I was boiling six eggs?
Why Emile told me,of course!
Emile….is he black?
Some people call him black,others say he’s mixed race.
Let’s not argue about semantics,he replied discourteously.
I don’t even know what semantics, are she screeched into his left ear.
Well,that is no barrier to arguing about them,he replied diplomatically.
Well,it’s senseless, she answered kindly.”I am not a person who enjoys an argument.Go and sit down,read the paper and I’ll finish preparing the curry dinner.
Is it common around here to have an unknown woman come in to cook your dinner?Peter asked Anne.
No,it’s the height of sophistication,she said judiciously.
It’s just with you being new I wanted to meet you to see if you need any assistance in your work.I don’t need money,I like to serve the community in some way.Of course I am Stan’s mistress but as he’s in a bad temper today I’ve not seen him.I suspect he is growing tired of me.
Are you married,Peter asked her.
No,but I was once.My husband ran off with his brother’s wife,so we decided to pretend they were both dead.
That’s intriguing,said Peter,I am married but my wife developed an allergy to my skin.She could not bear to touch it so it became awkward… very awkward.
Fancy, and you a therapist too,she murmured softly,So where is she now?
Oh, she lives on the Isle of Man,near Peel.I do go to see her now and then… and there are lovely sunsets over there… you can see the Mountains of Mourne.
Are you lonely, she asked him very emotionally.
No,I see seven patients a day..
But that’s not the same as having a wife or a friend.
Since my wife’s allergy,I am afraid to touch another woman.
How sad,cried Anne…I have very thick skin.Would you like to touch me? she said seductively
Perhaps another time,Peter said in a kindly way,But thanks for being so generous.I am touched by your amiability and femininity and your
kindness in introducing yourself.
.
Let’s eat the curry before we die of hunger.
They sat down at the kitchen table to eat the egg curry when they saw some amber eyes gleaming at the window.
Oh, dear,There’s Emile again.
Will he tell Stan?
Probably,but actually Stan no longer wants me.Yet Emile adores me.He will be jealous… he’s a cat,but he has the feeling of a man.
And indeed Emile’s eyes were gleaming like those of a tiger… he began to speak through the window glass.
Would you mind if I had some curry?Stan never makes it… I love spices
Why not? said Peter.
Emil’s plan was to get near Anne but first he had to eat the vindaloo egg curry.He took a mouthful..my,it was hot.His eyes began to water and his nose ran…. all round the room.He mioawed piteously
I need a hanky.
We shall have to ring 999,muttered Anne.
What! Do they tend to cats?
They usually have some hankies for cats….
So without any further ado,she took out her Samsung mobile phone and rang.
I don’t know how I shall get on living here,thought Peter.
He ran across the room and jumped into the washing machine with the tea towels and kitchen cloths.
Will he escape?
Buy the next chapter…only three shilling and sixpence or free with the Daily Wail tomorrow…order now for next life delivery!
with his patients an image of a cat peering in the window behind the couch was troubling him.He hoped it was not some hallucination transferred from the Unconscious of one of his patients into his consciousness.
Still,having a black cat looking in the window was by no means the most unpleasant optical illusion he had ever suffered.In a way,it was quite sweet.
He was back in his “home” flat boiling some eggs for his supper when the doorbell rang.He opened it cautiously with a sort of furtive excitement.There stood a strikingly attractive woman wearing a purple coat and a red hat with matching red ballet flats and a bright green designer handbag from TKMaxx.[£29.99 and well worth it]
Hello,I thought I’d introduce myself,I live across the street next door to Stan and Mary..my name is Anne..How are you settling in?
She walked confidently through his flat and into the new teak kitchen with its gleaming work surfaces and marble pastry rolling strip…. though Peter never made pastry himself.
Eggs!Are you a curry lover?By pure chance and serendipity I have a tin of vindaloo sauce here.I could pour it over these eggs.
Should we not remove the shells first?Peter asked with a just hint of humour.
Definitely,leave it to me.I’ve brought some naan bread and some brown rice too
How did you know I was boiling six eggs?
Why Emile told me,of course!
Emile….is he black?
Some people call him black,others say he’s mixed race.
Let’s not argue about semantics,he replied discourteously.
I don’t even know what semantics, are she screeched into his left ear.
Well,that is no barrier to arguing about them,he replied diplomatically.
Well,it’s senseless, she answered kindly.”I am not a person who enjoys an argument.Go and sit down,read the paper and I’ll finish preparing the curry dinner.
Is it common around here to have an unknown woman come in to cook your dinner?Peter asked Anne.
No,it’s the height of sophistication,she said judiciously.
It’s just with you being new I wanted to meet you to see if you need any assistance in your work.I don’t need money,I like to serve the community in some way.Of course I am Stan’s mistress but as he’s in a bad temper today I’ve not seen him.I suspect he is growing tired of me.
Are you married,Peter asked her.
No,but I was once.My husband ran off with his brother’s wife,so we decided to pretend they were both dead.
That’s intriguing,said Peter,I am married but my wife developed an allergy to my skin.She could not bear to touch it so it became awkward… very awkward.
Fancy, and you a therapist too,she murmured softly,So where is she now?
Oh, she lives on the Isle of Man,near Peel.I do go to see her now and then… and there are lovely sunsets over there… you can see the Mountains of Mourne.
Are you lonely, she asked him very emotionally.
No,I see seven patients a day..
But that’s not the same as having a wife or a friend.
Since my wife’s allergy,I am afraid to touch another woman.
How sad,cried Anne…I have very thick skin.Would you like to touch me? she said seductively
Perhaps another time,Peter said in a kindly way,But thanks for being so generous.I am touched by your amiability and femininity and your
kindness in introducing yourself.
.
Let’s eat the curry before we die of hunger.
They sat down at the kitchen table to eat the egg curry when they saw some amber eyes gleaming at the window.
Oh, dear,There’s Emile again.
Will he tell Stan?
Probably,but actually Stan no longer wants me.Yet Emile adores me.He will be jealous… he’s a cat,but he has the feeling of a man.
And indeed Emile’s eyes were gleaming like those of a tiger… he began to speak through the window glass.
Would you mind if I had some curry?Stan never makes it… I love spices
Why not? said Peter.
Emil’s plan was to get near Anne but first he had to eat the vindaloo egg curry.He took a mouthful..my,it was hot.His eyes began to water and his nose ran…. all round the room.He mioawed piteously
I need a hanky.
We shall have to ring 999,muttered Anne.
What! Do they tend to cats?
They usually have some hankies for cats….
So without any further ado,she took out her Samsung mobile phone and rang.
I don’t know how I shall get on living here,thought Peter.
He ran across the room and jumped into the washing machine with the tea towels and kitchen cloths.
Will he escape?
Buy the next chapter…only three shilling and sixpence or free with the Daily Wail tomorrow…order now for next life delivery!
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The tears again
can see there is plenty of material here for me to write my next book:
Deceptive appearances and the fascination of apparent dullness.
Oh, that sounds very unusual.
Well, I’ve never believed in true dullness.There is always a story.
See, I’ve just met you a man of 98 yet you have a wife, a mistress and a crazy cat.. and I’ve only been here for one day.Imagine
what else I may discover here.
They heard a siren.
Oh, no!We’ve not even rung 999 and here is the ambulance….
Mary will be so angry.You see Dave is bisexual
My goodness, are you having an affair with him.
No way, shouted Stan.My life is tough enough already.He can be bisexual or even trisexual but I’m not interested.
What does trisexual mean, enquired Emile.
I have no idea but I thought it sounded good, admitted Stan.
Peter stood up.
I think I’d better go home and start to see my patients.
Now Emile, put your nerve somewhere safe.We don’t want you to lose it again.
Thank you, darling cried Emile.I think I’ve formed an erotic transference with you already.
Peter rushed out.
Is it me or is it them?he wondered.
I thought it would be quiet here on the edge of Knittingham but I think now wherever you are there will always be something unexpected happening.But I hope Emile will not begin to follow me around.I shall have to buy a lady cat and then Emile might fall in love with her instead.So off Peter went whistling a Bach cello suite and wondering how to cope with life in a suburb.. clearly it was not as dull as he had imagined.
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Try to be sarcastic once a day
Try to be sarcastic once a day.
Honest and truth have never paid.
Never tell your secrets to a fool.
Never tell your children they are fools
Never go along with any crowd
Get fatter so the wind can’t knock you down
Don’t tell other people they’re obese
Never start a war to ensure peace.
Build a wall in secret piece by peace
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Selflessness can be bad for you
Pathological Altruism –
The enmity of night
The darkness and the enmity of night
Invite the wild projections of the mind
The lack of trust the need for saving light
The nightmares of the deep that terror bringd
The promise of the dawn, the sun alight
Bring vomfort to my heart when I’m alone
And yet with hidden mysterieswe fight
We try to read emotion from a stone
The pilgrimage we need to make our life
From avenues to footpath to the fall.
Rewarding conflicts undo human spite
All together we shall hear the call
In the suffering dark we see the sparks
We catch the flames of love to heal the breaks
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Singing still the ancient elegies.
Reverberations of the ancient elegies
The coffin carried by the four dark men
Agitate the mind with memory
He has gone and where will I soon be?
Am I to live and utilise my pen
Remembering all the ancient elegies?
I’d like to ask him what beauty he could see
Before he smiled and dropped his head again
Don’t agitate the mind with memory.
Hamlet asked, to be or not to be
But most go quietly when it is their turn
Singing still the ancient elegies.
Can we trust the darkness we perceive
Where god hides his greatest mystery, man
Don’t agitate the mind with memory.
Violently, with passion, the young burn
Then stone temples harden as they learn
Reverberations of the ancient elegies
Wound the human mind with memory
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An unearthly glow
My face is pale,my hair is white as snow
In my eyes is an unearthly glow
I ate some salt beef and some bread today
I tried to write a poem very gay
The Government attracted scorn and blows
The wind is in the willows with Jon Snow
Israel is getting on my mind
The deaf can’t see and all rest are blind
Come to Gaza, on the beach we play
Some children just got shot, ought we to pray?
On mountains where the prophets heard the Lord
The vultures now await the battle scarred.
The United Nations cannot speak the Word
Apartheid makes me wonder who is scared.
Jesus was a man so we are told
God sent him here, we killed him feeling bold
Would you like Guernica again?
Say the word, we’ll kill for pay.Amen
In the deserts of the human heart
Are there wells where water can be bought?
From whom come our so called Human Rights?
And by the way, what of the children’s plight?
Would you take a break on the West Bank?
We have some Bedouin Tents,and many tanks
Jerusalem is holy, what a shock!
You can eat ice cream right on the Rock
Women cannot wail on that great Wall
They have no height, they need to grow more tall
Golden is the dome and bright the sun
Catch an “Arab” out and have some fun
If we did not believe there was a God
He’d go away and leave us just his rod
I hate her wooden coat hangers all cracked
Give me wire and let me be abstract
I found some shoes but they have dropped apart
Think of how that hurt my Bakewell tarts
The Sacred Whore, the Holy Demon’s plight
The Holy Ghost is not inclined to fight
I have a table here on which I paint
I look so pale, will I be forced to faint?
In the bitter depths of winter night
Boil the kettle, lose your human rights
If you feel depressed then eat our bread
It will remove the skull from off your head
Are you feeling lonesome in the crowd?
Buy our lipstick then men will be cowed
Did you think ceramic hobs were best?
Come to us and have your IQ blessed
I want a pan for halogen hot plates
I’d ask the cat but it’s out on a date
Does Confession really help the damned?
God have mercy as the Devil can’
How my heart sings 