Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below. Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?
– Gargling with a Gargoyle –
Sally has caught The Sore Throat, as my ever-pessimistic and annoyingly accurate husband had predicted.
Sally is usually smilingly robust (like me), but today, she is distraught.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I do my best to be sympathetic, like a good mummy, but my mind is where I really want to be – immersed in the dreaming spires of Oxford, or more realistically my distance-learning course in Middle English.
I click on the link and the photo materialises – closely followed by the best squeal my daughter’s throat can muster. She hides her face in my shoulder, her little body shaking.
“It’s only the silly old gargoyle, Sally! I thought you liked him?” This is really weird. I stroke her hot little forehead, wondering if she is hallucinating.
“But Daddy had to put one in his throat when he was poorly last week! And he washed it in TCP too! It’s too big for my throat, Mummy!”
Her little face crumples, and I try very hard to suppress a smile. No wonder she had been so obsessed with John and his morning ministrations to his Man Flu.
Time to buy a dictionary – and indulge in a quick spelling lesson.