‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,’ the words of Sherlock Holmes, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and popular with the odd philosopher stuck for an answer.
I was stuck behind a hearse and limousine funeral procession the other day. I didn’t mind having to drive so slowly. It would be disrespectful to mind. The thought did hit me that if it were my funeral I like to think the hearse driver would put his foot down and create an impression. Obviously, in my Will I would cost in the speeding fines.
Talking of death, I am pretty sure there is a poltergeist in the house. Up until now I’ve always thought that if poltergeists did actually exist they would be chucking chairs around, turning the lights on and off and doing their best to scare people. My poltergeist seems to be useless at scaring and causing mayhem. The only thing it does is move tins of biscuits, tea, coffee and bread during the night.
What happens is that every night – call it OCD but it’s not – I push the tins back uptight against the wall. Every morning I can see they’ve been moved during the night. Even though I don’t drink tea or coffee and only am interested in the dark chocolate digestive biscuits (that’s what’s in the biscuit tin) I do check all the tins and nothing has been nicked (I’ve even started counting the teabags just to be sure). So, I ask myself why have the tins been moved away from the wall? I’ve checked out all possibilities and it can only be a poltergeist short on style and imagination.
At the top of this post is a pic of the tins last thing at night, at the bottom the same tins first thing in the morning. It’s the same every day. This has been going on for three weeks now. Odd.
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