The Brides In The Bath*

“So, what are you doing this evening, my lovely?” Seb says when he calls last night at 7.03pm.

“Oh, you know,” I say.  “Supper, watch that London Spy thriller from last night and…”

“Oh, it’s good,” Seb says.  “You’ll like it and…”

“Well don’t tell me about it,” I say, chopping some broccoli, putting it in the frying pan.

“Oh, I won’t,” Seb says.

“Not having a bath,” I say.  “Had one last night and that’s enough washing for the time being.”  My mental disorder makes regular washing difficult.

“I have a shower everyday,” Seb says.  “Not for reasons of cleanliness, I just find it relaxing.”

“Don’t like showers,” I say.  “People are always getting murdered in them and…”

“Not always,” Seb says.

“You’ve seen Psycho,” I say.  “Showers are lethal.  The problem with baths though: don’t like to have a bath if am alone in the house.  It’s OK if Suzy is here, or my brother, but if a murderer arrives and I’m in the bath, then I won’t hear them and…”

“No-one gets murdered in the bath,” Seb says.

“What about Marat?” I say.  

“Who?” Seb says.

“French revolutionary leader: stabbed to death in the bath,” I say.

“Hardly anyone gets murdered in the bath these days then,” Seb says.  “It was probably more dangerous to have a bath in those days or…”

“Loads of people still get murdered in the bath.  There’s the Brides in the Bath murders for a start,” I say.  “There was one the other day…anyway: have you ever seen a waxwing?”

“No, what do they look like?” Seb says.

“They’re gorgeous: put ‘waxwing’ into Google,” I say, pouring the eggs over the broccoli, courgette and mushrooms.

“Oh wow,” Seb says.  “I’d love to see one of them.  He’s got a beautiful head.   Where do they live?”

Here is one:

“On the continent somewhere,” I say.  “They drop in around now on the east coast, so you’re probably in the wrong place.  Saw them on Autumnwatch, but have never seen a real one.”

“Will keep an eye out for them then, my lovely,” Seb says.

“So what are you doing this evening, darling?” I say, slicing some mozzarella and placing it on the top of The Omelette, then putting the pan under the grill.

“Just doing some graphs for my project,” Seb says.  “It’s difficult on the computer and…”

“You are clever,” I say.  “When I last drew graphs, it was all by hand.”

“Well, it’s not anymore,” Seb says.  

“Darling, can smell The Omelette being ready,” I say.  Can hear the vegetables crackling under the grill too.  

“Speak to you tomorrow, my lovely,” Seb says.

The attached photo is some grapes growing round the corner from the flat.

Happy Wednesday everyone!
*2003.  TV film starring Martin Kemp.  Dramatisation of the real-life case of George Joseph Smith who was hanged in 1915 for the murder of his three wives.  He drowned each of them in turn in the bath and tried to make the deaths look like accidents.


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