HELLO READERS,
Today on the blog I would be highlighting the work of a very talented writer, Ms. Eden Gruger who graciously sent an excerpt for everyone to enjoy from her exciting new book "Down With Frogs". I am so happy for the opportunity to share this sneak peek with you guys. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did.
Take Care and Happy Reading!
From: Trini Girl Reads.
ABOUT:
Going To Meet The Parent’s Chas
When we arrived at his parent’s house I waited in the car at the gate, while he went to ring the doorbell. We couldn’t just drive onto the property park up and approach the door Chas said they really wouldn’t like that.
The parents were cordial to him and slightly less than that to me. I noticed straight away the lack of hugs or kisses for the son they hadn’t seen in six months. Before I could even get out of the car, I was given clear instructions about where on the property I could park, including which direction the car should face.
My rebellious spirit struggled, could I turn the car around later after stretching my legs? No, because they didn’t want the exhaust pipe directed towards the vegetable patch some two hundred yards away. While I did my five point turn they stood to watch me, arms folded, Chas’ dad called out instructions when he felt I wasn’t giving my optimal turning performance. Which was cheeky I thought, as he had only known me forty-five seconds.
Once out of the car I was told that I could call them Mr and Mrs Titty (names changed for my entertainment purposes). We were led inside and directed to sit at the kitchen table, despite our three hour journey the kettle was not put on, and no other liquid refreshment was offered.
It transpired over the course of the visit that Chas had descended from camels. There were three cups of tea taken per day, one at breakfast, one at lunch and the last at dinner time. No other drinks were provided outside of these times unless there was an emergency (which I guess did not include dehydration). You could have a glass of tap water, as long as you asked first.
A barrage of awkward questions were aimed at their son ‘How are you getting on with the mortgage?’, ‘have you been offered promotion?’. And absolutely no notice was taken of me at all. Both parents then showed us upstairs to our room. We were in the same room, but had twin beds with a cupboard between. And were told in no uncertain terms that ‘we don’t expect anything to go on under our roof’. Then they showed us where they wanted us to put our bags, ‘here on the floor only, bags don’t belong on beds or chairs’. Well, there you go.
Next on the tour was the shower room, we were fortunate to have been given the room with an ensuite. After talking me through everything in the room, as if I had never before seen a bathroom Mr Titty told me he would explain the instructions for the shower. I assumed that the instructions would tell me about temperamental fittings, but they did, in fact, tell me exactly how to shower whilst in their home.
The instructions were actually typed, laminated and fixed to the wall next to the cubicle: 1. Do not run the shower before getting into the cubicle 2. Stand under the flow for maximum of thirty seconds 3. Turn the water off, apply soap and shampoo 4. Water can be run for a further sixty seconds to rinse hair and body.
And no, this was not a joke, this was water conservation at its most militant. The toilet in this bathroom was ‘for urination only, if you wish to defecate there is a bathroom downstairs for that’.
The parents were satisfied that I understood the rules and agreed to abide by them. Leaving the bedroom door open on their way out, they went downstairs (no sneaky kissing in this house). Whispering my hilarity over the military operation that had been our arrival, Chas did not join in (through fear of hidden cameras I think).
Asking what would happen if I broke the rules, Chas looked stricken as he told me about an incident with a previous girlfriend. Unfortunately, the poor girl suffered from OCD, and needed three showers a day. The visit had ended after a day with Mr Titty banging on the ensuite door telling her she had used too much water and demanding she come out immediately. Saying he would wait there until she did. I can only wonder why that relationship came to an end.
Back downstairs we were offered a tour of Mr Titty’s campsite, which was plainly his pride and joy. After nearly two hours of him explaining the quality and variety of the hedging plants, why they had been chosen. Where they were bought and how much they cost. How long they would take to mature, what they would look like as they grew. How the new toilet block had been designed, what had been done to the drainage system to accommodate this new arrangement, and of course, how much it had cost. I could not nod or look interested, I really couldn’t.
Mr Titty detailed the superiority of the site as a whole, mainly due of course to his rigorous attention to detail. Which included that each caravan, only being allowed two days on any spot, at which point the guests would be told to move to the adjoining plot so that his grass wouldn’t be damaged by their vehicle.
It must have made for a relaxing week’s holiday to keep taking down the awning, packing away all their stuff and moving the caravan to the next pitch along to accommodate the welfare of the grass.
By the evening of the second day dehydration and military procedures were pushing me to my tolerance limit. What I really needed to calm myself was a proper bath, three cups of coffee one after the other, and a massive bar of fruit and nut. With none of these an option, I stared out of the window at the empty campsite and wished the clock would move faster.
Every family has its eccentricities, but this was seriously uncomfortable. Not only was this plainly a family under the control of a megalomaniac. It was one that I could never choose be a part of. Imagine having to spend every significant holiday or event with them for the rest of their lives.
Like the OCD woman before me, I knew this relationship would have to end because of them. So, I smiled, made polite noises through the next twelve hours, before we could leave, and I could get on with breaking their son’s heart.
Hope you enjoyed this.
For more information
Check out: https://edengruger.com
Author Bio
Now Eden writes modern fiction collections with a humorous, candid, occasionally tragic twist, each collection is based around a theme that touches women's hearts and funny bones. And non fiction guides to the writing, publishing and book marketing process.
When not working Eden spends her time in her garden, on her allotment or enjoying her dogs.
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