A glimpse into life at Terry Towers.
I was home for just a few hours on Friday night. My train got into Chester at 8:15pm, when I was promptly goosed by Sam (“Out of all the people here, he smelled you!” says Mrs Terry proudly as Sam sticks his nose in my crotch) and I hit the sack at 11pm, but Terry Terry and Mrs Terry do not need much time to shine.
These are the top three events from my three hours chez Tez.
1.Terry and I discuss a dog rape story we’d heard about in the news. Terry claims to know all about it, but is surprised when he sees a picture of the dog as he was expecting a smaller mutt.
“He’s quite a big one, you could get all your tackle in him,” says Terry. There’s a silence in the living room, broken by Mrs Terry who says “Well, the Welsh roger sheep”.
This is the last time we speak of the dog rape.
2. Mrs Terry is keen to demonstrate Sam’s new trick: toy recognition. She claims that Sam can identify all the toys in his toy mountain by name, and bring them when asked.
“Good boy, get Duck. Get Duck, Sam. There’s a good boy,” she trills. Sam shakes rabid foam from his lips and runs to his toy pile. “Here he comes” says Mrs Terry confidently, “bringing his duck.”
“Quack quack!” bellows Terry in encouragement, “quack quack!”
Sam enters, carrying a toy gorilla. Terry claims Sam is suffering from performance anxiety brought on by my presence and suggests I leave the room.
3. Rooting in the Terry pantry for gin, I find a Fray Bentos pie. I think it’s for one of the various charities they support but when I’m taking a photo for Philly Terry’s amusement, Terry comes into the kitchen.
“What are you doing with that?” Terry demands. “That’s my treat.”
The next day Terry and I visit a food fair where Terry spends £20 on olives.
Bring on my Christmas visit to El Porto!
Side note: Terry and Mrs Terry now spend more on Sam’s health insurance then on their home insurance. Strongly suspect Sam may have nudged Philly and I out of Terry’s inheritance too…