It’s been warm here at Boofuls Towers.
We aren’t used to it being warm. We get as much sunshine as everyone else but are more used to shivering in a stiff breeze while the rest of the country basks in their back gardens enjoying the glorious weather. Oh well, that’s the price you pay for living on the top of a mountain I suppose. It’s not windy at the moment, it’s just hot and sticky.
While we are on the subject of the rest of the country – you may or may not have noticed that there has been more football than normal on tv. Ah yes, the World Cup. Sigh. The four yearly footy fest that causes us such angst time after time.
Here in good old Blighty, still clinging on to 1966 and hoping for a long overdue repeat performance, we get the flags out and festoon our houses with them in readiness for the same.
By we, obviously I mean the rest of the country. Personally I would rather watch paint dry than watch football or indeed any sport but shhh…I don’t want lynching by the hoards of people who seem to enjoy sport.
The streets echoed with cries spilling out of pubs and houses all over the country: ” INGERLUND! INGERLAND! GO ON INGERLUND!” That is until we were quickly and ignominiously ejected from the competition. Honestly, it was hardly worth the pilot of the jet the players arrived in turning off the engines. He might as well just have kept it ticking over.
The streets are now bare of flags and bunting and the cries have been silenced. Oh well, you have to applaud the fans’ optimism. I have to say I find it slightly offensive that our English flag so often has the word ‘England’ printed on it. I would expect us to recognise our own flag without prompts – or is that just me?
Anyway, that’s the World Cup covered. Let’s get back to the plot.
It’s been warm here at Boofuls Towers.
As it’s been so hot here at Boofuls Towers, we have been sleeping with the windows open at night. Unable to sleep because I was still fired up from the paint I’d been watching dry, I got up to go to the bathroom. I don’t put the light on because I know my way to the bathroom quite well.
Something touched my hand.
Oh my God! What was that?
I ran back to my bedroom in a panic.
Boofuls, having been forcibly ejected to the spare room for snoring, was still sleeping soundly, the racket emanating through the door told me that. No help from that quarter then.
There was no way I was going back onto the landing. I planned to just close the door tight and wait till morning. Oh wait. I needed a wee. I really needed a wee. Dagnabbit. Why is there never an en-suite when you need one?
Hhmm, what to do? That sounded like I was calm. I wasn’t calm, my heart was beating like a drum.
The thought process went a bit like this: If I put the light on then whatever it is will come towards the light and towards me. If I don’t put the light on then whatever it is will be loose in my house and I really, really need a wee.
I put the light on. OH MY GOD!!!
A bat was flying around the landing. A bat!!! It must have come in my bedroom window. OH MY GOD! THERE WAS A BAT IN MY ROOM!!
While all this was going through my mind the bat did as I feared it would and flew towards the light – straight into my bedroom.
So much for my plan not to disturb Boofuls. In a situation like this you need a man.
“BOOFULS! A BAT! THERE’S A BAT!! THERE’S A BAT IN THE BEDROOM! GETITOUTGETITOUTGETITOUT!!!!
Poor old Boofuls has never woken up so fast, I think he thought the house was on fire. Bless him. He immediately took charge while I cowered in the bathroom. He managed to get the bat out without hurting it just by wafting a towel around every time it flew towards him. Eventually it got the idea and flew back out of the window.
Ugh. The strange thing is, I didn’t know I was scared of bats – not until one flew into me in the dark. The rest of the night I spent in a sweltering hot room with the windows tight shut, dreaming about vampires.