by Catriona Mills

Articles in “Strange Conversations”

Strange Conversations: With Special Guest Stars, My Female Relatives

Posted 29 December 2008 in by Catriona

What happens when you have a mix including my mother, my sister, Patrick McGoohan’s Danger Man, and an iconic British cartoon:

MY SISTER: We also saw DVDs of something called Danger Man.
NICK: With Patrick McGoohan? It’s basically a dry run for The Prisoner. And, of course, the inspiration for Danger Mouse.
MY MOTHER: Of course, he was quite a well-considered Shakespearean actor.
ME: Who, Danger Mouse?
MY MOTHER: Oh, yes—Shakespeare was well known for his roles for mice.
ME: Well, one of them was a mole.
MY MOTHER: Who?
MY SISTER: Penfold.
MY MOTHER: Penfold?
ME: Yes, Penfold was a mole.
MY MOTHER: In Shakespeare?
(Slightly stunned pause from all parties.)
ME: Yes. He was one of Henry V’s lords. It was a very small role.
MY SISTER: Because he was a mole.

Strange Conversations: A Special Christmas Edition

Posted 25 December 2008 in by Catriona

While enjoying a convivial Christmas morning with my entire family, sitting in the garden room on a balmy, antipodean day:

ME: Nicholas, please put the iPhone away.
NICK: I need to check my e-mails!
ME: No one is going to send you an e-mail on Christmas morning.
NICK: I had four new e-mails!
ME: (skeptical pause)
NICK (defensively): Well, they were junk e-mails. But I needed to check!

Strange Conversations: Part Seventy-Four

Posted 21 December 2008 in by Catriona

My washing machine, the lemon:

ME: The washing machine is beeping again.
NICK: Always does with underwear loads.
ME: Mam says it might not be quite level, but that would mean that the concrete foundation to the house isn’t level. Still, we could get a spirit level and check.
NICK: Okay. I’ll get the spirit-level application for my iPhone!
ME: . . . I don’t like you.
NICK: Okay.

Strange Conversations: The Holiday Edition

Posted 18 December 2008 in by Catriona

After Nick finished some secret, post-work shopping:

ME: So have you cunningly hidden my Christmas presents?
NICK: Under the bed.
ME: Don’t tell me where they are!
NICK: Well, I don’t want you scrounging around.
ME: But scrounging around is what Christmas is all about!
NICK: Oh, well, if I’d known that . . .
ME: “If you known that” what?
NICK: I probably still would have told you.

Nick never seems to get into the proper spirit of Christmas: that is, he has no cunning whatsoever. My family—led by my Machiavellian mother—is full of gift-giving cunning, so this is always a source of amusement to me.

A couple of years ago, he unwittingly revealed the genre of one of my Christmas presents, by loudly answering the phone to my sister and then saying, “I don’t know: I’ll just check” before ostentatiously wandering up and down the bookcases.

(But, then, who objects to getting books for Christmas? Apart from Albus Dumbledore.)

But my favourite was the birthday-present spoliation from last year:

NICK: Oh, it’s an SMS from your sister. “Hi, Nick: do you think Treen would like Kylie Kwong’s Simple Chinese Cooking for her birthday? Don’t read this out” . . . oh.

Strange Conversations: Part Seventy-Three

Posted 17 December 2008 in by Catriona

Humid weather breeds strange musings . . .

ME: Life is terribly complicated. I thought that once I got old, life would become easier.
NICK: I find that when I trip, I am less likely to fall on my face, so I have negotiated one of life’s complexities. It still hurts like hell, but it is no longer lethal.

It’s all about the little victories, isn’t it?

Strange Conversations: Part Seventy-Two

Posted 14 December 2008 in by Catriona

What happens when Nick unexpectedly walks in while I’m accessing iTunes on his computer (or, as I call it, his iMistress) so I can listen to Jonathan Coulton.

ME: I wasn’t doing anything!
NICK: It’s fine. You can do whatever you want.
ME: On your computer?
NICK: Well . . . no. But you’re allowed to turn on iTunes.

As long as I know my boundaries.

Strange Conversations: Part Seventy-One

Posted 13 December 2008 in by Catriona

An unusually random morning. I blame the heat.

ME: May I have a cup of coffee?
NICK: There is no coffee—there is only Zuul.
ME: Zuul?
NICK: Yes.
ME: Zuul?
NICK: Yes. From Ghostbusters.
ME: Yes . . . but what does that have to do with my coffee?
NICK: Very little. (Bursts into random Talking Heads song.)

Strange Conversations: Part Seventy

Posted 9 December 2008 in by Catriona

ME: Hon, while you’re doing the washing up, would you mind clearing some of the plates out of the living room?
NICK: I’m really shagged, you know. [Note: Not a euphemism. Well, it is, but not for what it sounds like. Nick has a cold and is a . . . vocal invalid.]
NICK: But that won’t stop me doing my duty. My manly duty.
ME: Stop that!
NICK: What?
ME: Well, when you say your manly duty, what you’re actually saying is “Washing up is for girls!”
NICK: No, I’m not!
ME: Why did you feel the need to say it was a manly duty, then?
NICK: Well, I am trying to annoy you.
ME: Oh. Okay, then.

Strange Conversations: Part Sixty-Nine

Posted 4 December 2008 in by Catriona

During a heated conversation about who the lead singer of Transvision Vamp was:

ME: Well, I nearly posted a video on Pownce with the tagline, “Hey, does anyone want to watch Wendy James seduce a microphone stand?
NICK: Wendy James?
ME: Yes, the lead singer of Transvision Vamp.
NICK: Isn’t Wendy James the Canadian-Australian chanteuse?
ME: No, that was Wendy . . . something else. [Matthews, we remembered later.] Anyway, she hasn’t recorded anything in ages.
NICK: Yes, she has.
ME: Not really.
NICK: Well, she’s been doing a lot of the moody, slow jazz exclusively performed in a certain kind of inner-city, elitist, avant garde Melbourne cafes.
ME: Well, nobody makes a living out of playing avant garde jazz in inner-city . . . slow . . . moody . . . cafes. Oh, shut up.

It’s almost impossible to refute an argument with that many adjectives.

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