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INSTALMENT # 1
Wednesday
About my Humans
My humans are having a mid-life crisis. For years Mr & Mrs Adams have been experiencing ongoing
family fuelled crisis-generating events but now external influences have caused the mlc graph to
record increasing levels of activity.
Frank and Mo Adams have been my humans for a long time. I’ve seen them through thick and thin,
rough and smooth. I probably know more about the Adams and their progeny than they know themselves
and I’ve made a study of all their neighbours too, past and present. As a humanologist, that’s
my job.
For 18 years, Frank and Mo Adams and their now dispersed family, all bar Squid, the youngest
son, have lived in Rosecroft Crescent, a cul de sac on a modest estate in a Berkshire village.
The estate development is pleasant and mature. It was built, or more accurately, thrown up by a
company with limited design aspirations employing construction workers with skills hallmarked by
hangovers and hangover repair remedies obtained in local pubs of which there a seven within
walking distance of the original building site.
In the beginning, Frank and Mo and all the neighbours co-existed happily but new arrivals have
gradually transformed the tranquil Rosecroft ambience to one of friction and disharmony. Gone
are the days of neighbourly chatting. Now it’s all gossip about residents of numbers 64, 68 and
47. Because of this and the prospect of Squid living with them until middle age, the Adams are
planning an mlc escape strategy by embarking on an extensive countrywide travel itinerary in a
de luxe motor home. The mobile travel decision was affirmed six months ago thanks to Mo’s
troublesome bunion.
The neighbours on both sides of Frank and Mo, numbers 64 and 68 and the ones opposite at ten
o’clock east, number 47, adjacent to old Mrs Franklin, have all moved in over the past eighteen
months. They have imported to the hitherto tranquil Rosecroft neighbourhood activities
inconsistent with the long established cul de sac standards, to the annoyance of everyone. The
options are to sell up and move or just go away for long holidays. Frank and Mo have chosen
the latter as they have always had a strong urge to tour the country in a motor home and live
in hope that the troublesome neighbours will eventually move. Many years ago the whole family
had taken many Camper Van holidays and so the itinerant life is not exactly foreign. This time
there will be just two of them plus me and Boris in a rather luxurious state of the art home on
wheels. Not such good news for Boris and me is that they are also contemplating spending the
winter in Australia visiting the first of their litter who has now set up her own breeding colony
with her husband Shane, a sheep farmer she met when back packing in Asia. Frank and Mo have not
seen Sharon since she left home and are looking forward to seeing, for the first time, their
four grandchildren all under the age of six.
A secondary reason to escape concerns their youngest son Squid. He has just begun his third home
based gap year after achieving a low grade degree in psychology - in fact, the lowest ever
recorded at his seldom attended university. There have been no local employment opportunities
for this particular qualification and signs of Squid leaving home have registered zero. His
employment has not progressed beyond part time dabbling on eBay. Threats and bribery to get him
out have not worked. Disabled in the department of self-sufficiency he does not possess skills
even at a primary level. Desertion is seen to be the only remedy. This will almost certainly
shift him to the home of his Turkish pole-dancing partner where he has previously gone in
emergencies and major domestic conflicts.
. . . . . .to be continued
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