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Muntjac Deer
Reminds me of a story. Shall I tell it?
I will then.
When I was married we lived in an old cottage. Not thatched, but old enough that it had subsided a little, meaning the bedroom window was quite low. Like many older places it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Anyway, we had the bedroom window open all summer. And this meant that at 06.00 any given morning, we got to hear all the OAP dog walkers coming past and greeting eachother inches below the window.
Somehow, our house seemed to be placed in exactly the right spot for them to pass eachother and stop and have a conversation. Front row seats if you like.
This particular morning, it was a very well-to-do couple. The sort of age and cut glass accent where it's actually hard to tell if it's a gruff woman or a high pitched man. The conversation went something like this:
- And then I looked up and you'll never guess what I saw!
- No, what?
- A Muntjac!
- A m-monster?
- No, no, a Muntjac!
- A, a... monkey?
- A Muntjac. A deer.
- Oh.
- Think it must have come down from the Rothschild estate.
- Oh.
It was wonderful. The combination of hard of hearing, bafflement and complete disinterest on the part of the hearer once it was explained. All very slow and drawn out. J & I had the duvet stuffed in our mouths by the end, and the mere mention of a Muntjac would have us giggling for a long time after.
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