Goodbye Sidney?

Today I woke bright and early to a rather nice sunny day. I pulled on my dressing gown and went downstairs for my morning cup of tea and a glance at the mornings newspaper which had been unceremoniously crammed through my letter box.

Upon entering the kitchen however, I was met with a sight that was far from conducive for my early morning sojourn with tea and news.

The cupboard where the Gnomes had been residing in their bijou jam jars was open. There was rice everywhere from a packet that looked as though it had been split on purpose and the jam jars were smashed to pieces. How I didn't hear any of the commotion that this act of vandalism and rampant destruction would have caused I do not know and can only put my apparent deafness down to the fact that I sleep with ear plugs in, in a pathetic attempt to ward off the noise of the car down the road spluttering into life each morning.

More importantly though, was the disappearance of the Gnomes themselves.

I pulled out packets of lentils and pearl barley, shifted jars of Horlicks and honey but there was no sign of any of them.

It was then that I noticed Sidney. Usually he is to be found rubbing around my legs waiting for his breakfast, purring so loudly it makes me smile as I ignore him and concentrate on my own needs first. But this morning he wasn't actually capable of rubbing around my legs or indeed purring.

It was the way the microwave had started to move slightly that had drawn my attention away from my search for the Gnomes. I stood up and was surprised to find Sidney staring at me through the glass of the door, his little mouth covered with some sort of tape and his four legs and tail trussed up with string. I was reaching out for the door when his instant look of horror and rapid eye movements towards the door handle drew my attention away from his stickered face to the side of the microwave.

Some sort of contraption had been contrived so that if I attempted to open the door of the microwave the small toffee hammer I usually keep in one of the drawers for Christmas, would fall down onto the 'Quick Cook' button and that would be the end of Sidney.

As I stood pondering the predicament I noticed a small note taped to the 'Defrost' button.

It read 'Wait for further instructions.'

Which is why I am now sitting here writing this and Sidney is still in the microwave. I am waiting for further instructions which as yet, have failed to arrive. The waiting itself has, quite frankly, disrupted my breakfast time in such a way that I have only just managed to force down my fourth cup of tea and fifth slice of toast, but nevertheless, I will wait and see what the rest of the day brings with it.

Hello

Today, while searching for a tin of 'Rouged Red' silk emulsion in the cupboard under the stairs, I discovered a family of gnomes. At first I was rather taken aback, not as much, I'll admit, as Jeffrey the male gnome who was in the process of lowering his trousers for a reason I thankfully will never find out, but after I'd introduced myself I began to warm to the idea of having them in the house.

I introduced them to Sidney, my cat, showed them around the kitchen and pointed out the locations of pots and pans, plates and cutlery. I instructed them on how to use both the oven and the hob and was surprised to find that Hilda already had quite a good working knowledge of Indesit gas cookers. We then settled down in the lounge for a nice cup of tea with a few Digestives thrown in to heighten my hospitality just that bit further.

Jeffrey explained that he and his family had been living in the house three doors down for a good part of the year, but had moved after being discovered. Hilda then said that they would have to move once again now that I too had discovered them as it is apparently against Gnomic law for them to stay in a house once they have been stumbled upon.

Sadly I had already become far too attatched to the family to allow them to move on and so I have, at the time of writing, got them tucked up quite happily in their own individual jam jars in the cupboard where I keep the rice. I have made provisions for them to be able to continue to breathe by puncturing holes in the lids and have given them a tiny piece of blanket to keep them cosy which I'm sure they appreciate despite the rather colourful language that both Jeffrey and Hilda seem intent on using. They most likely picked that kind of language up from the family three doors down who swear like troopers well into the early hours and have a car that coughs itself awake every morning ruining my lie-ins.

Besides, by allowing them to stay here in the cupboard, they'll make a fantastic talking point at all of the parties I'm considering having soon, once I begin to make some friends again after losing most of my best ones in last months debacle with the Salmon en Croute. I can just imagine the faces of my guests as I carry in the jam jars under a hand towel, whisking it away at the moment of triumph. Their gasps and adoring cries will ring around my house for years to come, ensuring that I am talked about in the neighbourhood for much more than simply accidentally poisoning five of my friends with a fish.