THE CURTAIN TWITCHER – Part 3

Our immediate neighbour is Aloe Vera. She is probably over 100 but very lively, apart from a tendency, well chronicled in previous posts, to faint.

She receives regular visits from the vicar. I thought this was very caring of the man, until my suspicions were aroused when I accidentally observed the following scene whilst checking a knot hole in the front fence; for clarity, obviously.

As the vicar strode purposefully up the front path, Aloe Vera flung open the front door in her nightie (boom, boom – yawn. Lo,TG Ed) and yelled “Have you brought your protection!!?”. The vicar tapped a bulge in his cassock and winked at her.

He hurried inside and they disappeared from view. My mind was racing. What should I do? Write to the Parish council and get the vicar de-cassocked? Turn a blind eye and pretend nothing was happening? Sneak over the fence and listen at the open window to get more evidence? …… Yes, that was the sensible thing to do.

I clambered over the fence, tearing a hole in my silk, Ian Fleming style lounging pyjamas, but that didn’t stop me – I was a man on a mission.
I sidled up to the open window, wishing I had thought of bringing the camera. To my surprise I could see the vicar muttering incantations and sprinkling water here, there and everywhere, whilst Aloe was saying “There’s definitely a lost spirit in here; things move around when I’m out of the room – please, ask it to leave – It’s frightening me!!!”

Light dawned.

The vicar finished his ‘stuff’, tucked his bottle of holy water back in his cassock and reassured Aloe that all would be well. She gratefully nodded, collapsed on the sofa and murmuring to the vicar “Thank you – you can find your own way out, can’t you?”  promptly fell into a deep sleep.

I had a decision to make.

Should I mention the occasion when, playing with my favourite paper aeroplane in the garden, it flew through her window and, so as not to disturb her, I decided to use a fishing rod to try and retrieve it, and that in doing so I accidentally hooked various items like a flying duck, a bowl of pot pourri , an antimacassar, a copy of the Radio Times, an occasional table and a bust of Beethoven – all of which were displaced a tad – and that the occasional table proved quite a problem and ended up on the piano?
I decided, taking everything into consideration, that I’d just keep quiet and let sleeping dogs lie. Oh yes, the dozing dachshund!!! – I wonder if he ever got out of that large chinese vase?
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