Last night, Big Seymour returned home to The Funny Little Bungalow before the rest of us with a new acquisition, about which he was very excited.
As I pulled up after ballet, some of The Little Seymours saw IT, so before I had even stopped the car, Boy was scrabbling to get out.
“Look! Oh wow! Let me out! Daddy has got us a… SCOOTER!”
A scooter! How lovely! You might think. But this is no Mini Micro, nor is it an MGP – or whatever the youth of today are in to. For this is not a scooter for the youth of today – it is a scooter for the youth of yesteryear. It is, in fact, an adult’s MOBILITY SCOOTER.
The MOBILITY SCOOTER has alloy wheels and leatherette seats. It also had a useful multiway shopping sack on the rear. It charges up on mains electricity and is now parked inelegantly, positioned directly under the porch, flashing and blocking all access to and from The Funny Little Bungalow, as it needs to be kept under cover, bless it.
What, may I ask, is my husband planning to do with the goddamn thing?
My issues are thus:
A) It is a car -of sorts, and is therefore DANGEROUSÂ – if Big Seymour’s intention is that the Four Little Seymours will be able to keep it as their own. Which they already think is the plan.
B) It is now slap bang in the frickin’ way. I cannot try to manhandle it every time I need to find clothes for World Book Day, or cardboard for the P.T.A. Curry Night. Or on those occasions when I just want to go into my future house and dream of a time when we can actually live in it… And where are we going to keep the MOBILITY SCOOTER longer term?
C) Everything that ever arrives here, chez nous, always gets trashed. It seems a shame to think that this MOBILITY SCOOTER, which has serious value to someone somewhere, is just going to be left in the way until bits start falling off it.
D) If Boy Seymour passes his M.E.M.S.D.T (Mummy-Enforced Mobility Scooter Driving Test) Big Seymour will not like it when the grass is all churned up. He will shout. And it will be his fault, but he will not see that.
E) There is something intrinsically disturbing about having a MOBILITY SCOOTER on the premises. They are marvellous inventions – don’t get me wrong, but they do conjure up images of sadness in my head, based on one set of crucial questions: who drove this machine before it came to us? Is he or she well? Did he or she upgrade to a snazzier model, or did he or she succumb to the passage of time…?
F) I suspect, as Big Seymour has been known to pimp lawnmowers and race them (quite successfully, actually) in the past, he may have daredevil plans for this new vehicle. Friends have already started tagging us in Mobility Scooter racing videos.
I wish they’d stop. He hasn’t got time for a hobby.
And G) Boy Seymour has had the results of his recent scans at the hospital, and they have discovered a muscle abnormality. And whilst he may find a machine such as this useful in the future, I am not quite ready for him to give in to one just yet.
On a more exciting note – our KITCHEN FLOOR TILES are apparently being delivered tomorrow! OOOOOOOOH! Marvellous. The only slight problem is that the guys from Topps Tiles will have to climb around the twunting MOBILITY SCOOTER in order to get our tiles safely stashed inside the house. All 48 metres squared of the things. They are heavy enough without a comedy assault course, I am sure.
How this will go, I do not know, and I am starting to twitch about it.
Wish me luck!
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