Tag: Knittingham

A therapist eats curry with a cat…more adventures with Emile

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?
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 Stan saga.. A letter from Mary,author of the book,”Wittgenstein’s cats and the Enigma code.”

Photo1378

The Pilchards.

23,Sweetnames Avenue

Knittingham

Near Nottingham.

England

Dear Jane

Hope you are keeping well in this unusually cold spring weather.

Stan has had flu.It made him so bad tempered and waspish

that I took up the Duraglit polish and got him to polish all the brass,

except the front door knob, as that doesn’t come off.

Mind you,it made the bedroom smell odd… a mistake,perhaps…

so I sprinkled lavender oil around.

He seems to get thinner and I seem to get fatter.

So our average w eight remains constant.

What a relief.I’d like to be weighed as a married woman.

Can you believe this..

I’ve got chilblains! It’s those dratted blood vessels of mine.

Still,I polished some old plum colored leather and wear them in the house.

We seem to be doing polishing frequently here.. boots,furniture,apples.

How is your new book “Nonsense:A.N.Whitehead and Lewis Carroll” coming on?

Hope it’s progressing….to a nonsensical ending.

I’ve got a new book of poetry coming out in April

[from Polar bears publishers]

It’s called,”An unpolished performance.”

My fourth book on Wittgenstein‘s cats is almost finished.

And the publishers can’t wait for the photographs…I’ll get a friend to do those for me!!

It gives me a change from all that polishing.

I’ve begun to talk to myself out loud…. in the street.

Just seeing if I can still do my old Lancashire accent.

I suppose it might  worry people but no one has said anything as yet.They may be afraid.

“That which is unsaid can,nevertheless,still be heard.

Stan is still involved romantically with Anne, our next door neighbor.

I can’t blame him as chilblains and Wittgenstein not very romantic.

When I think of how we used to be,it makes me smile and feel sadness too.

I wonder if I can find someone new for a romance,myself… someone with Asperger’s syndrome

possibly…as I’ve just been diagnosed.It’s quite common in mathematicians.It may be an

advantage in concentrating a lot

I need a boyfriend with weak eyes as my clothes are all full of moth holes

and I’m damned if I’m going to buy new ones.

I can’t see well enough to darn but I’ve sewn the holes up neatly thus

giving a strange pleated effect to my clothes.

On my merino wool knitted trousers, one hole was right on the ass.

It looks now as if I’ve been shot in the rear…

but I can’t see it.So it does not exist.

Sometimes in the past I would iron on those motifs like

butterflies…but

I think it would look odd having a butterfly just there…. or indeed

anything else like wild rose.

I could make a little sign saying

“Keep clear,from my rear.This is a hole where a moth scored a goal.”

Still,not many people are going to look there now I hope….

I seem to have stopped knitting but am still drawing.

Meantime I’ve just ironed some of my winter clothes as it’s still chilly..

and am planning to iron all my pink and blue knickers now

as I believe it kills any germs left when you wash at 30 deg.I got those colours in case I should

change sex or is it gender?

I wonder if I should iron the sheets?

Could I do it while they are on the bed?

I don’t wash them much as it wears them out and me too.

I am going to take up baking again because Stan is getting so thin.

I fancy a Russian cheesecake as it had a lot of protein in it.

I have a genuine Russian cookbook and also am waiting for a delivery of a

Jewish cookery book as I have lost mine..no it fell down onto my head last week

.God only knows where that came from.

but I believe there were good cheesecakes as Jewish cooking has much in

common with Russian,perhaps because once many Jews lived in Russia.I just

made friends with one here….he is charming and like me he hates golf.

I have got almost all the Penguin cookery books ever printed but mislaid a

few.

In fact it’s quite hard to get into the kitchen

with all these books on the shelves.And a little food.

I was comforted to read that the parent’s of John Burra,the artist,

had books piled every where in their large house….

and he was very untidy too.

So all I need is  talent and practice and I’ll be an artist.

After all,anyone can be untidy but not everyone will practice their Art.

I’d like to practice the arts of love.

They say you should love your neighbor as yourself,

but personally I prefer the neighbor or even the milkman to myself.

Meanwhile I’m happy with Emile our cat

and my 500 photos of Wittgenstein.

I shall make Stan a lemon sponge pudding.

That is the love he wants…Food.

“If music be the food of love I’ll cohabit with a pure white dove.
And while he coos and sings for me.
I’ll try not to :fall out of the tree,
Get stung by a bee,
Have psychotherapy
Make more  enemies

Let my thought free,
Hurt my knee.
Let moths frighten me.

Well,time for some tea.

Now Jane, please write to me soon.

I love to see your so strangely beautiful handwriting

and to hear about Whitehead and Cambridge and all the weird dons.

I hope it’s not too damp and cold there near that river.

Keep warm and make a note of any intriguing happenings to relate to me.

And anything beautiful you can see or hear.I hope Edward is writing

regularly..where is he doing his research now… did you say Stanford?

Maybe you should install Skype..then again,perhaps not as you would have to

wash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.

Do write soon,Love always,Mary.