I received a phonecall from Daughter yesterday.

Well, actually I received a photograph from her first on WhatsApp. It was a photo of a lot of packets of food. It looked like a supermarket shelf. Daughter sends me a lot of very weird pictures so this was just one more for my collection

Then came the phonecall.

It transpired that her freezer had broken down the previous day and the photograph was of all the food that had been frozen but was now rapidly thawing. She wanted to know if I wanted any of the stuff but I would have to cook it that night. I thanked her but said I had already started my cooking process.

Being a kind and thoughtful father I offered her some space in one of our freezers.

“Briliant” says she. “I’ll call up later with some packs of stuff.” There was a pause. “And the guinea pigs.”

“Guinea pigs? What the fuck are you on about?”

“The two frozen guinea pigs” she replied.

“What the bind fuck are you doing with two frozen guinea pigs? Do you intend to eat them?”

“Of course not. They’re the guinea pigs who died and they’re not mine so I froze them.”

I remembered then the escapade some months ago when Granddaughter the Younger was the prime suspect in the murder [by drowning] of one or both of the beasts.

“So you have been keeping the frozen corpses of two guinea pigs in amongst your food for ages? What the fuck are you doing that for?”

“They’re not mine.”

“Well give them back to their rightful owner then.”

“It’s complicated,” It’s strange how often I hear that phrase when trying to understand Daughter’s motives for something.

“Bury the little fuckers”

“I don’t have time.” This is another phrase that is well worn in our conversations.

“Well, fuck them over your wall into the field. Let nature take its course. I promise you that the guinea pigs won’t mind.”

“Can I bury them in your place?”

“Jayzus! We are already the graveyard for four dogs, a rabbit, a couple of cats and the guinea pig corner is full of two other guinea pigs. And now you want me to bury two guinea pigs and I don’t even know who owns them? Feck off!”

She called up to us that evening with some meals that are still good for consumption in the next couple of days, along with some semi-frozen that can be re-frozen.

I didn’t dare ask what happened to the two guinea pigs.

I expect there will be a noxious stench when I next call to her place.