We use fuzzy logic.

pinkcatandsun

Annie Laughton, the neighbor of Mary Brown, widow of Stan , the  almost world famous logician, came out of her oak-panelled front door and paused in her double glazed white plastic porch deliberating over whether her teal color 7/8  length wool coat was the best one for her to wear in the frosty smog covering Knittingham and the River Quaint.[Now breathe]
She decided a full-length raspberry maxi coat would be wiser however she did not take her own advice but wandered next door, to see what Mary was doing.
Mary was reading some book reviews.
There is a new type of illness, she told Anne.
Almost flu.almost depression, almost measles……almost happy


Surely you either have measles or not, Annie mumbled.
Not so, Mary answered.That is Aristotelian logic; nowadays we use fuzzy logic.It’s a degree of indefiniteness or its opposite.
This is why Trump got elected, Annie cried.We want it simpler.apart from Leonard Cohen who wanted it darker and so it has been for him.He died!
Well, fuzzy logic is not so hard, Mary whispered.
Any logic is hard, Annie replied.Prehistoric man had no logic and look at us now.Are we happier?Or we wiser? 
You seem a bit moody, Mary told her.By the way, I love your new coat.Where did you get it from?
I stole it from the cloakroom at the Cricket Club, Annie teased her thoughtfully.
Are you not worried the owner will see you? said Mary anxiously.
No, it was in Newcastle under Lyme!  Annie cried
But it is still both a crime and a sin.Mary retorted logically
Actually, I got it from Lands End, Annie said triumphantly.They had a big sale on.Because it was a warm autumn.It was only £6,788.09.
My, that’s cheap, said Mary.
My pension is £189 a week so how long will it take me to pay off the credit card? Annie wondered.
If we ignore interest and assume you pay £100 a week it will be 16788/100 which is about  168 weeks or 3 years.Can you live on £89 a week for 3 years?
No, I knew I should have stolen a new coat but I lost my nerve.
I am still wearing my old clothes, Mary boasted.
Yes, I  can see all the moth holes, Annie said humorously.Your darning is pathetic
I know, Mary said.Stan was good at darning.
Well, he can’t do it now, Annie informed her logically.Well. he might darn God’s tablecloth but not your skirts and jumpers.
God’s tablecloth is perfect, said Mary.It lasts for eternity unlike our clothes
Are we going out?It looks so cold.Why don’t we stay in and teach Emile to thread a needle?Annie pondered
Do you believe that a cat could ever learn that? Mary cried.
O ye of little faith,cried Annie.With God all things are possible.
Your argument has only one flaw,Mary cried.We are not God.
And so say all of us

Wondered what she might say next that could offend millions around the globe

New cats today

While Mary sat in the kitchen on a large pine chair looking at Hotter’s  latest shoe catalogue,Annie was creeping up the garden path in a pair of turquoise suede elegantly heeled shoes matching her teal tencel culottes and matching blouse.Round her neck was a large lump of amber on a gold chain handy for beating off muggers or lustful men
Despite the heat she was in full splendour with  golden beige tinted moisturiser from Langone of Lyons on her lovely complexion,pink eyeshadow  from Yves St Current and dark brown boot polish as  her mascara had run out and she’d not been out for a while to buy more
Annie ran the last few yards and darted like an eel into Mary’s 1970’s  kitchen.
What on earth are you doing,dear? Mary asked her.Those shoes look unsuitable for  leading anyone up the garden path.Mind you,I do like them
Oh,I’ll explain,Annie said huskily.
I told  that therapist across the road I was  living with you.
What exactly do you mean by living,Mary asked anxiously.
Well,he said yesterday that anyone who lives alone must be lacking in some way.Except for him of course as he had full  analysis with Alfred Zion.
You mean Wilfred Bion,Mary told her.
Zion,Bion,what’s the difference?
It shows your  lack of education,Mary told her.Not that education nowadays makes much difference when almost anyone can get a 1st or 2.1.After all would you pay £90,000 for a third class degree in Aeronautical Engineering?
That’s not quite what I would have done, said Annie.A degree in flirtation and pleasing men would be more up my street.And cooking of course although I once did have an interest in Hebrew and Aramaic.
It’s not a way to progress in  a neo-liberal economy,although reading the Hebrew Bible is always interesting.Personally I  prefer  that to the New Vex-a man.The stories,the love songs,the action.Mary’s round eyes gleamed with intellectual life and a bit of  languorous lust
How about God? Annie asked her.
He seems to have changed as he related to his people.But he was a friend despite being an abstract concept.Though one could hardly call him a concept as he is inconceivable.
Mary’s voice faltered as  she was stunned by her own articulacy and wondered what she might say next that could offend millions around the globe.
You should write a book,Annie said kindly.
I think I am ill-equipped to write about God.And ,also ,I am saddened to see how his  own people  have been treated.I can’t dwell on  it over much as I already feel weak and weepy.
Why what have you  been doing,asked Annie.
I have been sorting out clothes to  give to the hospice shop. I’ve got a big bag
full already and  2 bags of newspapers and rubbish of various kinds which somehow creeps into my bedroom…  tissues,cotton wool, old hairbrushes.I am hoping to get it nice and neat before my sister comes to see me in August.And no doubt she will not be happy even then.She’d like me to buy a  small new house with a  lovely bathroom and kitchen. But I don’t want to leave my neighbours behind.If I won the lottery I could get the neighbours to move as well.Love thy  neighbour  etc
And now I realise I have far too many pans despite burning several.But it’s a big decision for a woman who was  famed for entertaining friends with  scorching Beef Vindaloo and lemon mousse that  tasted like  rubber.Giving that up is a big wrench.
Why can’t you carry on, asked Annie.
Carrying on is precisely why I can’t do it.Now I am a widow the wives of my former  colleagues and  my own women friends are afraid I will steal their husbands.
Emile miaowed in ecstasy as any  talk about  the love lives of his family were always intriguing.He was hiding as usual behind  the stone flour bin.
Don’t you see,said Annie.If we pretend we are living together then you can mingle with men without suspicion.
This is beginning to sound like a spy story,Mary told her.And do not drag me into  a character part  in the play  based on your romantic love for that psychoanalyst.
He looks ugly and boring to me.
Oh,that’s just a projection,Annie told her.You are defending yourself against acknowledging how much you long to lie in his arms and let him smother you in kisses.
Well,said Mary,I see you have been reading Freud for beginners again.
Or is it Freud for Dummies?
Mary recalled  how nice her dummy used to taste when it was dipped into a jar of malt and codliver oil.Maybe that is the answer,she thought.
I’m going to Mothercare,she called as  she ran out of the house in her green trainers and denim trouser suit.See you later.
Annie sat in the kitchen wondering how soon she could see the psychoanalyst again without  being accused of sexual harassment.Even   old age has not deterred her from seeking a replacement for dear old Stan.A few tears ran down her cheek and Emile  jumped out and sat on her knee.

The wild bird

I saw your soul like that of a wild bird
Someone other guided me to act
Deep inside my voice had been unlocked
I sang the psalms and then a lullaby
Not aware in thought that you would die.
I fed you with a teaspoon the mashed fish
From a plate as good as one might wish
Like a little child you tried your best
You smiled at me and gazed like one who’s blessed
You sat up with a brighter face at last
Then lay back and God knows all the rest

Oh, don’t go yet ,my darling,I am here
The floor of heaven came down among my tears
Made of sumptuous satin, golden,dear.
For a little moment it hung low
Then it rose and took you in its glow
I saw your soul like that of a wild bird
Taken by the Power who spoke the Word
A sheet of tears fell down from my closed eyes
It’s hard ,so hard when those you love must die

I do not wish to have a bitter heart

My washing will not dry laid on the hedge
But I stand here while nurturing a grudge
I rarely feel one so I must retain
The nasty feeling and the horrid pain

Yet since it hurts me,I must be a fool
The errant friend will turn into a ghoul
I’ll hear her footsteps from my ancient bed
Till she enters carrying her head

Oh God lift up my ruminating curse
Let me have your grace or I’ll get worse
I do not wish to have a bitter heart
Grudges turn to dread; it’s hatred’s art

For if I learn destruction and its ways
Cruelty will have the final say

I passed out very well

Will you pass the toast?

It depends how fast I’m driving.

Could I have some more butter?

Well you could, but I don’t know if you will.

Will you pass the jam?

No I only pass the cream.

Could you pass the examination this afternoon?

Only if it’s on the M25.

Could you pass the parcel round?

In theory yes. Why would I?

It night break the ice at Christmas

That’s all very well but will it melt

Have you open the newspaper yet?

I shall have to iron it.

I hope you won’t do that to the butter.

Who has heard of creased butter?

Is it something like greased lightning?

No it’s more like pleated thunder.

But the pleats can’t be permanent.

Few things are permanent and that is what is so cheering about life.

I have made a hundred mince pies.

When did you learn to count?

When you began to steal them.

I wonder if that would work with children?

Do you think children could make mince pies?

Not unless you like them raw.

Could you make the bed today?

I ll have a look at the instruction leaflet.

That’s what you said when I wanted to start a family.

Unfortunately it was in Hebrew.

If you had made the bed before we got married.

You’re just so lazy you want even fly to Hebrew for me

Is it modern or ancient?

It’s the same country whether it’s modern or ancient.

You need to put a watch on your tongue.

Why, do you want to time our kisses?

Well it is vital.

Is it one of the vital signs?

It depends what you are judging.

I’m wondering whether to leave our marriage.

Where?

I have a feeling that we don’t listen to each other.

What?

Time is nearly up

When?

I thought we could try free love

I suppose once the divorce comes through.

Giving birth in modern Britain

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/a96536f2-1c98-11ee-8434-240b5ab9f9b1?shareToken=25c1cd226275d09fb4d6f601981807c8

After meeting with other mothers with similar experiences, one woman, who was Indian, said it had not been noticed she was haemorrhaging because of her skin colour. One woman was told to “be more careful” when she bled on the floor, another was told by a midwife “if we gave pain relief to everyone it would bankrupt the NHS”.

Portaloo Doom

What a wasted space is a corridor

Like a bullfight without any matador 1

We can have three commodes

They won’t come to blows

What on earth is the hospital waiting for?

We don’t need a bedpan these days

Like we don’t need a church for our prayers

The old can wear nappies

They keep babies happy.

Just clean them all up once a day

Patience don’t need their own bathroom

A porta loo has very few fumes

The porters won’t like it

But I don’t think we’ll fight it

As long as it’s not shown on zoom.

Redress the balance: Being steady on your feet – Reader’s Digest

https://www.readersdigest.co.uk/health/wellbeing/redress-the-balance-being-steady-on-your-feet

There are three components to balance. The first is the visual system, which shows us whether we’re tilting. Then the vestibular system in the inner ear sends information to our brain about the motion of our head in relation to our surroundings. Thirdly, proprioception is our body’s ability to sense its location, movement and actions. 

“People with ear problems that cause dizziness […] are more likely to have balance issues”

People with ear problems that cause dizziness, or with joint problems or muscle weakness are more likely to have balance issues. If you suffer from dizziness, see your GP to find out the reason.

Get your strength up

 
Exercise goes a long way to helping you stay steady on your feet

But there’s a lot you can do yourself to improve physical strength. If you exercise, you’re ahead of the game. One study found that a group that did 32 weeks of resistance training improved their ability to stand on one foot by 25 per cent and another group that did 32 weeks of aerobic exercise increased theirs by 31 per cent.

” If you exercise, you’re ahead of the game”

null

Otherwise, improve your balance by walking, cycling or climbing stairs – this will strengthen muscles in the lower body – or by practising yoga, pilates or tai chi. Or simply practise balancing on one leg – hold onto a chair to begin with, if necessary. 

Read more: Sex and ageing: Fact or fiction?

Read more: How to protect your hips

Keep up with the top stories from Reader’s Digest by subscribing to our weekly newsletter

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There are three components to balance. The first is the visual system, which shows us whether we’re tilting. Then the vestibular system in the inner ear sends information to our brain about the motion of our head in relation to our surroundings. Thirdly, proprioception is our body’s ability to sense its location, movement and actions. 

“People with ear problems that cause dizziness […] are more likely to have balance issues”

People with ear problems that cause dizziness, or with joint problems or muscle weakness are more likely to have balance issues. If you suffer from dizziness, see your GP to find out the reason.

Get your strength up

 
Exercise goes a long way to helping you stay steady on your feet

But there’s a lot you can do yourself to improve physical strength. If you exercise, you’re ahead of the game. One study found that a group that did 32 weeks of resistance training improved their ability to stand on one foot by 25 per cent and another group that did 32 weeks of aerobic exercise increased theirs by 31 per cent.

” If you exercise, you’re ahead of the game”

null

Otherwise, improve your balance by walking, cycling or climbing stairs – this will strengthen muscles in the lower body – or by practising yoga, pilates or tai chi. Or simply practise balancing on one leg – hold onto a chair to begin with, if necessary. 

Read more: Sex and ageing: Fact or fiction?

Read more: How to protect your hips

Keep up with the top stories from Reader’s Digest by subscribing to our weekly newsletter

RELATED CONTENT

CBD oil: Benefits, uses & best UK brands in 2021

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5 Types of bodily pain – Marietta, GA

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Can gossip be good for you?

WELLBEING

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5 Ways regular exercise keeps your mind fit

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The music

Our music is a late Beethoven string quartet.
Although I can’t see you,I know
You are listening; the architecture of my heart
Is structured round this form
alone.I sit here dreaming hearing the bows
as they most beautifully cause vibrations
sending the depths of love through the air;
as also do the strong yet gentle bells ringing
on the collars of goats on a far away mountain.
I know it’s your music I heard it
when I first looked into your shadowed eyes
and knew who you might be.
A pebble is tossed languidly into a lake
yet ripples spread out across the world.
Such deliverances as we find will only
link us further,as we dance,the elegant dance
of the knowingly brave
who never give in,
but will always keep in step with the world
as it turns unseen past flashing silver stars
until its time has come.
Yet the music we create remains for ever
floating through the air,
like perfume of these late roses
as I walk down the garden
and into the intolerable green newness of this tangled wood,
which startles me with its violent wistfulness.
Oh,come now…I hear your footstep on the road.
It’s the wind sighing eloquently,
knowing you have gone away
into the dark and the deep.where new life is formed
and I wait for you,fierce yet kind, with tender love.
I offer my heart to the world
and the music takes 

Original sin

The sin a child is born to is not hers;
For mother’s body’s sacred with its grace.
The sin a child is born to,it is ours

Yet ,at a baptism will the priest declare:
Out ye demons,leave this infant’s space.
The sin a child is born to is not hers

The infant naturally speaks in tongues of fire.
The Spirit moves eternal in its trace
The sin a child is born to,it is ours

The path we learn to walk ‘s already there
The rules and laws were written with no haste
The sin a child is born to is not hers

A child born now is marked by Iraq War
A child born now, in paranoia’s traced.
The sin a child is born to,it is ours

Oh,look upon the infant’s holy face
Beatific vision is there traced
The sin a child is born to is not hers
The sin a child is born to,it is ours

Smokey Road near Hythe

Leaving Elham driving South to Hythe
Driving by the stubble through the smoke
As if the very earth was all aflame
The Saxon cliffs provide a steep old road

By the shore the sea was teal and glowed
The hinterland was barley, sun and light
The crops up in the North were never rich
For us Northern people , such a sight

Now the Channel Tunnel is nearby
Motorways with lorries either way
Yet I remember Dover,Deal, and Hythe
The little woods where children used to play

ÎThe Saxon cliffs are wayback from the sea
The Saxons would be startled, could they see

I have made my bed on winter leaves

I have walked the silent paths of grief
Since I made my choice to care for him
I have slept on beds of cold dead leaves.

I do not want to claim that death’s a thief
Although my heart’s dear light and joy have gone.
I have never felt I was deceived.

I have learned that human life’s too brief.
I have learned by sorrow I’m undone.
I have sifted earth and what’s beneath.

I have felt the dark emotions seethe
While I have been mocked by cruel sun.
I have learned the geography of grief.

I wait on earth for senseless life to cease
Or will a fluttering wing make chaos come,
Change my heart and give me a fresh lease?

Catastrophic grief can make us dumb
Into our hearts we drag the ice that numbs
I have walked the silent paths of grief
I have slept on beds of winter leaves

The shops look all the same to me

The shops look all the same to me.
plastic human models with no heads
are placed in the windows
showing us how we might look
if we bought the latest “fashions”.

People walk, by dropping paper and cans
some look at me,most don’t
I’m invisible now ,I’m a ghost.
I haunt my familiar spaces
the library green and the path by the river

The phone shops tempt us with large notices:
Just £39 per month for the best of all,
the latest,the new maps and locations
faster access to email and photos.
Look ,here I am,another selfie.The only beauty is a pigeon in the sun
and a black man with gentle,luminous eyes
smiling at me as he sweeps away the paper
tossed down by the blinded people
who jabber beside the coffee shop.

I’ll love 94

From Finland to the Phillipines

Egypt to Xanadu

From the North Pole to  the Netherlands,

I love only you.

That isn’t very Christian

Nor would it please the  Jew.

So  if I must be good,my dear.

Then I willl love two.

When I get more holy

And know where the virtues be

I’ll  be  even better then

For I will then love three.

When I get dark, old and grey

And soon will be no more

I’ll make Jesus happy,

For I shall love a score.

From Alaska to Andalucia

Berlin to Borneo

If God spares  me  much longer

I’ll love ninety four!

;

Good news about Alzheimer’s disease but don’t be passive. Find things that you like to do when you retire or before and do not just watch the television

I àm glad they have found something that’ might help. There is tremendous amount of anxiety now. This may have a very bad effect on people mostly people who will never get it.What I have found distressing is that most older people do not have any hobbies or personal interests and sit watching the television for Hours Is it at all possible to try to find some kind of intellectual or artistic stimulus that you can practice before you get to be too old. Writing short stories or poems which will help you even if they are not very good quality.Going to art classes again it helps you whether or not you are any good at art and makes you observant when you go out as you can wonder what colours you would use to paint the sky which has such a variety of colors in it at different times of the day.It’s a very good idea to keep going for walks even if they are very short because it helps the blood social ocean and more blood will go to your brain.Even gossiping will help the brain but don’t take them to court for anything.That will not help your brain in the long run.What can we do ourselves rather than relying entirely on the hope for scientific research is a positive step. And whatever happens to you when you’re old you’ll find it very beneficially if you could write about it even keeping a journal or writing matters to your relatives instead of sending emails.It’s rarely too late for something good to happen know that because it’s what I have done myself.Don’t wait do something.

Where’s the Biro?

With a biro scribble down the lines

No Fountain pen,no Rorsach blots, no nibs

Lots of paper needed every time.

Words are are hewed from rock the’re never glib

Laptops message easier to write

Yet they use no muscles,axe nor line

No hands are wrung no paper pierced,no fight.

The brain is severed from the hand unkind.

If there is a written script it sells

It conveys it’s vision through the hands, the heart

It’s not just to the brain but every cell

Heal yourself by feeling not by charts

Walk about with pockets full of pens.

Every word on every line makes sense

Grenfell tower


[2017 recalled]

When ancient peoples sacrificed to God
They offered up the best of what they had.
The king’s own son would be the frequent choice
As insulting a God was seen as vice.

And when a man goes courting for a bride
He offers her a ring that satisfies
He does not give her tin or zinc or lead
But gold or diamonds glorify the bed.

Yet here in modern or post-modern times
We offer up the lowest as our sacrifice.
And so the wealthy shall go straight to hell
As murderers of the sick and poor who fell.

In the past, the rich gave to the poor
But now they burned them up in Grenfell Tower.

The town

T

The shops look all the same to me.
plastic human models with no heads
are placed in the windows
showing us how we might look
if we bought the latest “fashions”.

People walk, by dropping paper and cans
some look at me,most don’t
I’m invisible now ,I’m a ghost.
I haunt my familiar spaces
the library green and the path by the river

The phone shops tempt us with large notices:
Just £39 per month for the best of all,
the latest,the new maps and locations
faster access to email and photos.
Look ,here I am,another selfie.

The only beauty is a pigeon in the sun
and a black man with gentle,luminous eyes
smiling at me as he sweeps away the paper
tossed down by the blinded people
who jabber beside the coffee shop.

Emile gets his nerve back

  • Wikipedia

    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 6156119_f260

    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.

The therapist and the cat.

What on earth

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?
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