Skip to main content

Museum Of Curiosity




Showered, scrubbed, sat, fully dressed, in bed because the house is cold and from here I have a pleasing vista of leafy trees and sheep dots on field squares. Moorland squats under mist. The window has rain freckles. I hear a car rumble on the lane. Mr returns from his town errands, and he has bought a picnic basket in a charity shop.
‘Another bit of clutter,’ he apologises.
I look up at my family heirloom stuffed Red Squirrel, and decide I’d better not worry about it. Picnics are fun, even an indoor picnic on a day that rains. It is difficult to pack food in a basket without being mindful of the intention to share and enjoy.
I don’t know why I like Squirrel so much though. Probably because he is so odd, he provokes a quizzical mindset, even when I am used to him being there. And he reminds me of this:
Once upon a time there was such a place as ‘Mr Potter’s Museum of Curiosities,’ a collection of objects including locally retrieved mummified cats, seventeen kittens drowned and stuffed to represent a Spring country wedding, a Victorian cucumber straightener and an umbrella stand made out of a hollowed elephants foot. Compelling, disgusting, mind-bending stuff: one of my favourite places to visit, because it was so disturbingly weird. The grand finale was to wait in the gift shop space, watching the cctv screen, observing the mixed expressions and reactions of other visitors. Mr Potter’s collection has since been sold, as divided lots. Nothing I have discovered since has caused so much laughter and so much sickened revulsion in one afternoon. 

Red Squirrel, aka George. Probably about 70 years old.

Comments

YONKS said…
When you said you were packing a picnic basket then, in the next sentence you said you like squirrel, I thought you were going to eat squirrel for lunch! I wonder what it tastes like :-)
Di
X
9 May 2012 at 12:47
Suze said…
'The window has rain freckles.'

You excel at these.
9 May 2012 at 12:49
Gossip_Grl said…
My childhood bf had a lot of real stuffed animals in her attic which used to scare the crap out of me as a kid. We were playing hide and seek once and accidentally broke a tail on one.
9 May 2012 at 14:28
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you lovelies :-)
Apparently red squirrel tastes awful but the prolific grey is delicious, and quite popular.
An attic full of stuffed animals... that's some good childhood drama!
9 May 2012 at 14:59
Rubye Jack said…
I am so with you on the reasons for loving Squirrel.
9 May 2012 at 14:59
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

A Glitch Or Two

My Chromebook has been crumbling. It seems a little like dementia, this inability to upgrade its powers of communication, it makes me sad, even for an object. It's one of the reasons my posts here have been put aside, that and generally being tumbled by tiredness. I have saved up money for a replacement, also I have spent that money on trees and shrubs. I have two novels to sort out however, and this will be the reason I save up again. I don't stop writing, even if I don't tell anyone. In the meantime should you need a calm place to go, I have begun a substack account. Please do drop by. If the kettle crumbles we can make tea (or soup) on the firepit. Me on substack:  Lisa Southard
Post a Comment
Read more