I've just packed Father off into a minibus, thank goodness. Despite swearing never to drink on the sabbath I've felt the need to pour myself a large Bailey's to cope with the stress involved. It went something like this:
Saturday, 13:48
Father arrives in a minibus emblazoned with 'Human Earthworm Sanctuary - serving the megadrile community since 2001' which was embarrassing in itself. He'd changed since I last saw him, he was wearing a lycra catsuit (wormsuit?), which teamed with beige slip ons and angora socks looked a little srange in the midsummer heat. I hurried him up to the flat where he sat on the sofa and demanded food; luckily I'd stocked up from the Co-op in advance so it wasn't difficult at first to sate his hunger. We discussed what was happening in the sanctuary - apparently there's a huge rivalry between the New Zealand Flatworm and the Earthworm community, the former being a predator of the latter. I must confess that his conversation was less than riveting so after an hour of this I switched on the television.
We spent the rest of the day in companionable silence and went to bed at 22:15, I'd made up the sofa and Father had my bed. I was woken at 02:16 by Roger who stated that he'd spied Father writhing around in the communal garden/backyard; I managed to tempt Father indoors with some dead leaves which seemed to do the trick.
Sunday was a complete disaster - Eleanor, Sebastian and Nick visited but were openly shocked by Father's condition. I saw Eleanor stifle laughter when Father started talking about soil consumption in great detail.
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