IF THERE REALLY ARE FAIRIES AT THE BOTTOM OF MY GARDEN... ...THEY'RE OUT TO GET ME....

I don't believe that aliens creep in at night and take away earthlings to tinker with their nether regions, nor that crop circles are made by beings from outer space. I don't think I believe in spontaneous human combustion (though I've felt like it sometimes myself when pushed), nor in spoons bending, or even that Elvis is alive and well and pursuing a less ambitious career - BUT - I know that I have as constant unseen companions a little troupe of imps or demons (I see them sporting red ski-suits, with pointy tails) whose brief it is to cause situations that would qualify me for a cosmic version of "You've been Framed".

It's a mystery to me how they work it, and it's obvious that they must be mainly opportunistic, but just occasionally (I somehow see a trio) will have an idea that has the others in complete stitches. They probably takes bets. Or I could be some sort of unwitting training ground for would-be proper mischief makers on a larger scale.

The premise being that if they can mess me about enough they can graduate to bigger annoyances like small harmless earthquakes in Chile, Bank Holiday weather, and containers with child safety caps that are only accessible to 4-year olds.

A favourite standby is the sudden gust of wind when I'm trying to hang a double sheet out on the washing line (yes, I do have a tumble dryer but....fresh air etc etc). This is something I hate doing anyway, even in a dead calm as I am convinced there is a way to do it that I don't know about, and I always think the neighbours are laughing at me, let alone imps. The sudden addition of wind can thus involve personal wrapping, wrestling, dropping, swearing and occasional re -washing.

What a hoot. Occasionally one of them will have a real bust of invention and set up a really good one.

How about dropping some breakfast cereal off your spoon in the murky morning - and wondering -"Where did that go?" How about into the glasses hanging round your neck? Which you have to put on in order to try and see where it went - and now you know, it's dribbling down your cheeks. I bet they wet themselves at that one.

In case it be thought that these things are age related, and the result of fading faculties, I fear this has been a long-term training scheme.

Once - when I was young and flat sharing - I stood on the loo seat to adjust a dodgy chain pull, while wearing backless mule-style slippers. As I reached up, the slippers slipped and jammed my feet in the water neatly down the S-bend, leaving me braced against the walls for quite a while until I executed a sort of contorted back flip to free myself. However, it did give my best ever excuse for being overdue at work -

"Sorry I'm late - I got my feet stuck down the toilet....."

So- when I am bouncing around the kitchen like a ball in an arcade pin-table game, with my sleeve caught on a door handle, hot fat running up my arm and a cat round my ankles, between moments of giving the children next-door a wider vocabulary ("Mummy - what are B******S!!!?") and trying not to actually kill myself, I can reflect that at least I am contributing to some greater plan.

I just wish it wasn't for The Dark Side, and it wasn't so patently obvious that the Force is not with me.

 

Thelma Mitchell 2001, 2002