10pm
Me: Cup of tea Tony?
Tony: (looks at me like I'm fucking mental) No!
Me: Oh! Sure?
Tony: Can't have tea now, can I! I'll wake up at 2 in the morning with a stiffy, won't I!
Massive laughter.
Tony: (defiant) Well....don't p'tend it don't happen to you!
My kitchen is a heat sink. In cold weather it's where any heat in the house runs to and disappears, in warm weather it's what I use to cool the house down. It's engaged by a simple manually operated valve reaching from floor to nearly the ceiling, which we call the door.
Tony will only understand the door as being open and shut, which is pretty much all there is to it, to be fair, but he doesn't grasp the reasons for my preference of it's configuration.
I was watching Formula 2 motor racing on the TV when Tony walked in through the kitchen door, which also serves as a conduit to beyond the kitchen, which we refer to as 'outside'.
As he passed, he kicked the door closed. This has been my preferred configuration for the last 6 or 8 months. But not 7. It took me maybe 4 of those (but not 5) to train him to close the door behind him since, presumably, I'd spent much of the previous 4 or 6 months reminding him to leave it open.
Me: Door open please.
Tony paused and looked at the TV.
Tony: Ek tick?
Me: Open.
Tony: Ewek tick!
Me: No. Open!
Tony: Ektik!....Wektwik! Lecktick!
Me: What? What are you doing? Say words!
Tony: Electwick! Electric?
Pointing at the TV.
Tony: Electric?
Me: Oh! The cars?
Tony: 'swot we're talkin 'bout innit?
Me: Do they sound electric?! (they were going brmmbrmm rather than fizzing) It's Formula 2.
Tony: Oh.
Turns to go to his room.
Me: I said leave the door open please!
Tony: Oh!....(looks at the ceiling for a memory)...Didjuh?
Opens the door.
