My Giddy Aunt

“Oh bligger blugger!” I shouted. Looking around to make sure I had not been over heard. My Mum always gave me a clip round the ear for just thinking bad words, even if I didn't say them. I put my hand up to my nose to see if it was bleeding as I had bumped it on the back door in my hurry to call round to see the new kitten.

Why was the door locked anyway? This was  really strange, as my aunt always left the doors open. Had she fallen or been taken ill? I knocked loudly several times. Then I heard footsteps.

“All right all right! What is the hurry? Is there a fire of something? I am coming, give me a chance!”

I heard a few bangs and crashes and then the door was flung open and lo and behold, there she was with a blindfold on. A bright red spotted handkerchief was tied round her eyes and the corner hung down over her nose.

I could not hide my surprise: “Why have you got that blindfold on are you playing Blind Man’s Bluff or something. Can I join in? Is there a party?”

She reached out towards me: “Now come on in quickly and stop asking stupid questions. No, there is not a party and I am not playing Blind Man’s Bluff. Whatever gave you that silly idea?"

As strange happenings were not unusual when visiting, I obeyed, and followed her slowly into the kitchen. On the way she bumped into the hall stand knocking a walking stick over and a couple of coats fell to the floor.  I picked these up and also deftly caught the vase that tottered on the edge on the hall table and put it back on the shelf.   At that moment, she cracked her shoulder on the door frame and let out a yelp.

“Well what are you doing then? I just came round after school and found the back door locked and I bumped my head trying to get in,” I said plaintively rubbing my nose again.

Not answering any of my questions, she held up her hand for silence: “Would like a cup of tea and some Jaffa cakes? I got a new packet this morning when I dropped in to Pearce's the grocer.”

“Yes I would, but I still want to know what you are doing.”

We moved into the kitchen and she went to the Aga and picked up the kettle, banging into the table on the way. Having filled it, she tottered back to the stove spilling water as she went, but managed to put it on the hotplate and make her way to the cupboard to get the cups and saucers. Disaster was looming as they were piled up one on top of the other and I could see them all tumbling down and breaking into smithereens.

I offered to help but was sharply told: “Sit down and wait will you. You are always asking so many questions. Questions, questions, questions. When you grow up, you will realise that you have to practise if you want to get better at things, so that is what I am doing - practising. It is obvious isn’t it?”

It was not obvious to me, but it was always easier to give in and do as you were told, so I drew out a couple of chairs and pulled them up to the table. In the centre was an open box of Jaffa cakes with a plate beside it but the cakes were laid out on the table cloth. I was puzzled.

We waited in silence for the kettle to boil and eventually it began to sing out. She picked up the teapot and poured the water on and brought it to the table with no further mishaps.
“I am not going to say anything until we have finished our tea.” She could be very annoying at times.

“Shall I lay out cups and saucers and pour the tea then?” I asked.

“No, we need to wait for it to brew. Anyway what brought you round here in such a rush?”
“I told you, I wanted to see the new kitten. What have you decided to call it?”

At that moment a rather large black and white kitten climbed out of the basket by the side of the Aga – stretched and came towards me.

“I decided to call him Tiny Wee,” she said.

“Why, he is not very small? In fact he is huge for a kitten.” I said; putting out my hand towards him.

“I know he is quite big for his age but he keeps doing tiny wees all over the place and so I thought it would be the perfect name for him.”

We both started to giggle. My aunt had an answer for everything.

When we had calmed down, I noticed that she looked very smug. It was then she asked: “Well, aren’t you interested to know why I am doing all the jobs blindfolded.”

“Of course I am; but you told me to wait for the answer until we had finished tea.”

Picking up the teapot, she felt around for the cup and poured, but only hot water came out; she had forgotten to put the tealeaves into the pot.

I decided to play her at her own game and stifling my giggles, I let her carry on.

She passed me the cup of hot water, felt around for the plate of Jaffa Cakes, and on finding it, proceeded to pass the empty plate around.

By this time I couldn’t contain myself any longer and burst out laughing. She was most indignant: “What is so funny?”

“You are funny,” I exploded. “You should see yourself and what you have done.”

“Okay, I suppose explanations are now due. Do you know how many people lose their sight when they get older? Well I have been thinking about it and I realised how difficult life would be, so I have been practising doing all the jobs around the house so I will be able to stay in my own home and not be a burden to anyone? I am not going to let your mother put me in a home. I know she wants to get her sticky paws on this property – whatever she says.”

“Mum doesn’t want to do any such thing,” I remonstrated. “Anyway you are not old.” I said this because it was the sort of thing you were supposed to say. She seemed pretty ancient to me, but I was only eight, and I realised things look different when you are young.

“Well, I want to retain my independence as long as possible and I so am making every effort to do so. Practice makes perfect you know.”

This was one of her favourite homilies and one that she did not usually follow herself. It was always something she told other people, to get them to do things for her.

“I can now make the bed, feed the cat and make a sandwich blindfolded. I am aiming to add a new task every week, so that in time I will be able to do all the tasks required to remain independent. So there, what do you think of that?”

There was nothing to say. I just shook my head. What would she think of next?

“Has everything gone to plan so far?” I asked sweetly.

“I have only had a couple of minor mishaps. Yesterday I made a sandwich with tinned cat food. It tasted a bit like fishy corned beef but it was quite tasty and I might just have it again and I know the cat was very pleased with the chicken I put down for him.

I looked down at the bowl on the floor; “Incidentally, why has the cat got tinned plums for dinner? I am not sure the new kitten will like them and even Pegotty has left them alone and she eats anything  and everything.”

“Oh, is that what they are? I didn’t realise it was plums in the tin when I got it out of the larder and I didn’t think to smell it or anything. I thought it was Kitty Kat.”

“Sounds like you have eaten all the Kitty Kat yourself,” I chuckled.  "How has the cleaning been going under your new regime?”

Looking around the kitchen, I thought that she must have done the cleaning with the blindfold on. Cleaning was never her strong point, but on this occasion things looked a tad under par. In her house the dog provided most of the hoovering for the food but dust balls were now forming at an alarming rate in the corners and the floor was covered with spots that the dog thought were too meagre to bother with.

In the past, when my Mum mentioned cleaning, she gave us another of her quips along the lines that dust did not accumulate after two years – she had not tried this out, but told us that Quentin Crisp had experimented and found this to be true.

“Do you keep the blindfold on all the time?" I asked.

“No, only for a couple of hours each day at the moment, but next week I am going to go down the village and do the shopping with it on.

I gasped at the thought.

“ I have found one of your uncle’s old walking sticks and I am going to paint it white and I have been training Pegotty to be a guide dog.”

“Is she any good at it? I think it takes years to train a dog to become a guide dog,” I quipped. Pegotty was a pretty crazy dog at the best of times and I would not have wanted to put my life in her hands.

“Not yet, but she just needs practice as well, and I still have to get the harness right so that she can send me signals when we get to the kerbs and stop me being killed in the traffic.”

“Auntie, she is over fourteen and her sight is going, so I don’t think she will be much help to you. It will be a matter of the blind leading the blind.”

With that she pulled down the blindfold, looked at the tea things and said, “Well if at first you don’t succeed then try, try and try again. That is my motto. How about making a fresh pot of tea and I will give it a bit more thought?”

Even though I was only young I was amazed at her imagination and forethought. She would have made a great boy scout as her motto was certainly “be prepared”

by Jay Cassie

Cartoons by:

 Garry Davies - garry.davies657@tiscali.co.uk