The Scrivener: Murine Moments
…She (Merle behind the counter, not the pharmacist) is one of those amicable chatty people who make shopping a pleasure. In Summer, we sometimes meet at my favourite Italian coffee shop. I hasten to add that we certainly do not have secret trysts or even arrange to meet It's pure coincidence, you understand. I'm sure she's a respectable married woman…
Wordsmith Brian Barratt celebrates the amiable delight of chance meetings and conversations.
To read more of Brian’s joyous words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/the_scrivener/
And do visit his stimulating Web site The Brain Rummager www.alphalink.com.au/~umbidas/
I don't know how we got onto mice, when I went back to the chemist's for my tablets and had a chat with Merle. They (the tablets, not the mice) were on a new prescription, you see. The first one was wrong. Not my doctor's fault. It's just that his computer didn't show that the NHS (National Health Service) had changed an item which is available at a subsidised price for pensioners. So the pharmacist had kindly phoned my doctor and arranged for the new prescription to be sent by fax. Excellent service, I thought.
She (Merle behind the counter, not the pharmacist) is one of those amicable chatty people who make shopping a pleasure. In Summer, we sometimes meet at my favourite Italian coffee shop. I hasten to add that we certainly do not have secret trysts or even arrange to meet It's pure coincidence, you understand. I'm sure she's a respectable married woman.
Merle usually has two little dogs with her (at the coffee shop, not the chemist's). They're both have black curly fur and are fussily friendly. I haven't enquired too closely about their parentage but let's just say that each has a number of ancestral lines in its family tree. Floor mops might be involved somewhere.
One day, over a cup of coffee, we were comparing notes on possums in our gardens and sheds and gallumphing around on the roof at night. Possums have a very noisy social life, doing private things in public, as it were. And when the dogs hear them, they bark like fury (the dogs, not the possums).
And that gave rise to Merle's story about the mice that were occasionally seen scuttling around another shop where she had worked. This sometimes alarmed customer, so she assured them that they were her children's pets and were perfectly harmless. I think the truth was that they came in through the door for a bit of peace and quiet away from the constantly moving cars.
Aha! So that's how mice came into the conversation when I collected my tablets — I asked the ever bright Merle if they were still active (I mean the mice in the other shop, not the tablets — I do wish you'd pay attention). It seemed to be an appropriate opportunity to tell her about the family of mice which took up residence in my gas stove, many years ago. However, a queue had started to form. Well, just one man was waiting behind me, with his tray of about eight packets of prescribed drugs, so I thought I'd better move on before he succumbed to whatever it was he needed so much medication for.
The intensive chatter about murine life-styles and habits had to cease. I'm sure we'll continue next time. And I bet Merle knows what "murine" means.
© Copyright Brian Barratt 2010
