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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: February 7, 2025
The story of Stan’s briefcase

Stan was in the dining room looking for an aged briefcase with his autobiography in it while Emile sat on an old TV set in the window looking at the birds.Mary was in the garden wearing an ancient yet trendy denim dress planting some trailing rosemary,lavender and sage in a small bed near the French window..She had decided that her salvation lay in the soil though what form it would take was not yet clear ;suddenly she heard a harsh cry.It was her neighbor telling off his dog,Emmanuel.Come,now ,he shouted.
Hail,Mary,he called.Can you spare a big potato?
Probably,she muttered peevishly without looking up.
I am making sausage boulangere, he informed her.But I use turkey sausages as I am a Jewish Hindu semi vegetarian.
I am not interested in religion,she told him kindly.I believe one can worship God ,if there is one, somewhere like a wood.
I like being on a group ,he told her thoughtlessly..
Well ,go and be in one she said naughtily.Do you like sex in a group?I am a mathematician and we study rings and groups but only in symbols as maths is like life with all the sensuality removed,if you catch my meaning,she ended artlessly.
Stan appeared at the door.I have just made the tea ,.he called.Hi Brian, how are you?i Why are you wearing a dress today?Are you changing gender?
No,said Brian,I am a mere transvestite especially in the summer.You should try on a dress,they are more comfy in the heat!
Well,maybe I will said Stan with utter sang froid.But it makes more ironing…
hey all sat down at the kitchen table and ate some delicious scones San had just baked and also they drank PG tips tea with milk and sugar as that is what the English most like to do apart from getting drunk.
Where is that lady Annie who lives next to you,asked Brian pensively..I like her bright clothes and her vivid lipstick.Is she single,he enquired in a faux naive manner.Well, perhaps but she is my mistress, said Stan defensively.Aha,aha,laughed Brian as he eyed the shrunken old man.
Now then,said Mary,leave him alone.He is like a magnet,women flock to him..
Now don’t exaggerate,Stan said shyly.I’ve not had that many.
I see said Brian.I’d love to hear more….. you’ll have to come to the pub and tell me the details.
Not flamin’ likely,thought Stan. ,as he examined his cracked leather briefcase with real brass buckles,backstraps and front pocket, a bargain at £3 and ten shillings in 1949.Hurry as not many are left.
All of a sudden ,he fell off his chair which broke into fragments..Brian was awed.I’ve never seen a chair break up like that he cried.
Well,ring 999 said Mary, a paramedic can fix it
S


