Oh Brother, What Art Thou Thinking Now?

My parents’ move to Lutwyche has gone well.

For them.

I’m exhausted and my brother is still running around like an ER nurse but at least the house is sold and they’re settled in enough to be able to put their feet up, enjoy a drink and check out what the neighbours are doing through a tiny set of binoculars – something we really need to have a stern talk about, Dad.

But every couple of days they realise there’s something missing in their lives. Like last week, my Mum decided what the house really needed was a poof.

At least that’s how she put it.

Lots of these conversations have been happening and they all march roughly along the following lines:

“Hey, I need the printer. Can you bring it down for me?”

“We sold it, remember.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll buy a new one then.”

Similar conversations have been had for sheets, wine glasses, blouses and, just last night, the laminator.

Or as Dad described it, “The plastic thing which wraps the…Judy, what is that thing?! She’s in the shower. The thing. Covers things. With plastic.”

This is a man who once ran three stories of tech wizardry in the city with over three hundred staff.

So the idea of them wanting a pouf in the house after, on their instructions, we’d gone and sold the one they already had wasn’t the shock and awe moment you might expect.

That came later.

My brother, rather than running around town with them yet again, decided he’d let his fingers do the shopping and sat down with them over coffee to find something suitable on the net.

“This one?” he asked, pointing at his screen. “Or this one?”

He’s only had them living on his doorstep for a month or so but has already learned it’s best not to overwhelm them with choice. Fast learner, my brother.

In the end they went with a round linen & pine one, a photo of which I’ve included above. The colour was right and if it could take 150kg then it could certainly support Mum’s dainty little feet.

My brother’s only concern was it would take up too much space in their tiny apartment and make the whole thing look cluttered. But Mum was as immovable as my father after a few tallies: she wanted something to put her feet up on.

A few days later it arrived.

“It wasn’t exactly what we were thinking but at least,” my brother chuckled as he shared a photo of their new purchase in situ, “it doesn’t fill the space up too badly. We just might need to order a second one for Mum’s other foot.”

Raising a family on little more than laughs

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