On our way down we stopped off in Littlehampton to see Sean's son Dan, Dan's wife Karen and their two kids Mia and Zoe. We went for some food at a pub where I had sausage and mash. When the plate was put in front of me I wondered if they'd mistaken me for a small child. I cannot and will never understand small portions especially where mashed potato is concerned. Anyway the food is not the point of this story...
Mia is 6 years old and a cheeky little posing monkey. She is truly hilarious. I hope I have a kid like her one day. After we'd eaten we decided to play I spy. We had a couple of goes and then it was my turn. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with 'S'." That threw her. I don't care how old you are, I taken no prisoners. She finally gave in and I told her it was a sausage. We continued back and forth for a while. Her turn, "I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'P'." Plate? No. Picture? No. Um, phone? No. I give up. "Possage," she said. "What is a possage?" I asked her. "It's a sausage with a 'P'." PAUSAGE! Haha! I tell you what, I could not stop laughing to the point where I started doing this thing where it sounds like I might be choking. What a way to win the round. Just pick a word that's already been done and change the first letter. I'll be using that in future games so watch out.
After that little delight (you could say as a reward) I taught her how to make a beard out of her own hair. I feel this is a thing all children should learn.
I told her it would be more authentic if she cupped her chin...
6 or 46? It's hard to tell with this little trick.
The next morning, after eating Dan and Karen out of house and home, we made our way to Looe (that's pronounced 'Loo' - how appropriate) where mum and Sean had rented a cottage for the week. I was aware that I'd be gooseberry but didn't realise how large a one until we got there and saw that the toilet was an en-suite. I was staying in the living room. Uh oh. I tend to go to bed late. And I always have to wee directly before I go to bed (this stems back to the days when bed wetting was rife. The fear remains. I'm aware this makes me sound like a mental patient.) My mum said she'd leave the door ajar but I really didn't want to impose on any bedroom action that may be taking place. The first night I managed to get in there before they went to bed. But the next night disaster struck. I needed to go after they'd gone to bed and the door had been shut tight. Desperate times call for desperate measuring jugs or failing that just a normal jug will do. Yes, I'm ashamed to say that I weed in a jug. Not my finest hour. After leaving it to soak I was sure to wash it thoroughly with scorching hot water and washing up liquid (P.S. You can drink urine so don't judge me). In the morning my mum asked what I'd used the jug for. I avoided a lie and said I was just cleaning it. I felt this wouldn't rouse suspicion as it's natural not to want to drink the contents of a dusty jug, or a urine laced one for that matter.
The next night in a similar situation I turned to a fruit bowl (I didn't feel two days of washing an 'unused' jug would go unnoticed). You'll be pleased to learn there was no fruit in it at the time. Because I thought I might need to use it again another night I put it outside in the garden to save washing it every time but in the end it was not needed.
Two days into my time in Looe (haha) I managed to do three poos in one day (these were done in a toilet not on a plate). My favourite kind of day because I really feel like I've achieved something. I can't take all the credit though as I had a little help from my friends who appeared to have been taking steroids.
The Oatabix Flakes failed their drugs test & were disqualified from the Cereal Olympics.
I told my mum that I always need a poo when I'm playing hide and seek (I'm not sure how this came up as we weren't playing it at the time - it may have been that she was bunged up. I really hope she doesn't read this). She told me she always needs one when she's in a video or bookshop. I'd love to find out what induces other people's bowel movements. Please share if you feel comfortable doing so - coffee and cigarettes will not be accepted.
Towards the end of my stay my mum was choosing which walk we were going to do. She placed her finger on the map and this is the exchange that followed:
Mum: There's a Shag Rock here. Wasn't there one of those in The Muppets?
Me: Do you mean Fraggle Rock?
Mum: Oh yes.
I'm glad we cleared that up and she'd not been watching Muppet based porn.
The view out of the living room window.
I left Cornwall a few days before mum and Sean as I really wanted to give them some space. My mum called me a couple of days after I'd gone and asked if I'd put the fruit bowl in the garden. Lying doesn't come naturally to me. I said no, like I always do when I'm lying, in a drawn out questioning sort of way to show that I actually mean the opposite. It's sort of an honest version of lying. But my mum, not one to just take the information she's been given, continued to ask questions, "Why did you put it out there?" She wasn't going to take my "I don't know" lying down. Eventually she managed to put two and two together and not only did she work out that I'd used it as a toilet but she realised that that's what the jug washing was all about. And I thought I'd got away with it. Not content with finding out this information she carried on with the questioning, "Where did you do it?" Does it matter mother?!! I felt like I was being investigated for murder. After much hilarity I managed to avoid giving any further details.