So, this morning’s joyous interaction with Mrs Crackerwax involved our lovely new neighbours – who moved in on Friday – and a delivery.
We were waiting for an Asda order, so have been alert to vans arriving outside the house, and as I’m on the side of the bed that falls closest to the window, that duty falls upon me.
So, at around 07:30, I hear a van. “Is that Asda?”, asks Mrs C.
“No. It’s a Curry’s van. For next door I think.”, said I, unaware of the impending surreal conversation I was about to have.
“A what?”
“It’s a Curry’s van.”
“Why on earth are they getting a curry at this time of the morning?”
I pause, in stunned disbelief.
“What?! It’s a van. From Curry’s. They’re getting a washing machine delivered. You doughnut.” (I only thought the last bit).
Putting aside my despair for the moment, I think we need to take a step back and try to understand the thought process here. A few things spring to mind….
Firstly, having to question the notion that someone would fancy a curry at 07:00 on a bank holiday Monday is insanity, besides which, what curry house delivers at 07:30? Are 24-hour curry houses a thing?
Moreover, how was I supposed to have identified that this was a ‘curry van’?
Perhaps it had a chime that played curry house music (music they play in curry houses, not curry, house music), or maybe there was a large fibreglass naan bread on a spring, wobbling about on the roof?
Perhaps this mythical curry van would trawl the streets of housing estates on sunny summer afternoons, chimes blasting, leading to mothers being pestered by their kids for pakoras.
“Mum! Mum! Can we have a pound for the curry van?!”
“Fine. Fetch my purse. You and your sister can have an onion bhaji each, I’ll have a samosa and your dad will have a pint of Cobra.”
Mrs Crackerwax’s mind is a nebulous, eldritch place. It’s always fun trying to reverse engineer its inner workings.
