pockets.
“Get down, Robert,” said Sparks’ dad who fortunately knew the dog, in fact had paid for it. “I’m having a serious conversation.”
“Robert,” said Sparks’ mum. “What a silly name for a dog. If that dog was human, he’d be furious if he knew you’d given him a name like that.”
“If he was human, he wouldn’t mind.” said Sparks’ dad.
“Robert’s a silly name,” Sparks’ mum said to the dog, “isn’t it, Boofles?”
Robert, who couldn’t have cared less if he’d been named Brave Lord Filth so long as he was fed and looked after, wandered off to sniff Sparks’ exotic urban groin.
“Alternate worlds,” said Sparks’ dad, who had no idea what he was talking about, “feature in much fiction.”
“I don’t care… I mean, I don’t mean fiction,” said Sparks. “I just wondered if there was any information about them outside fiction. I mean, in, er, non, er, fiction.”
“Well,” said Sparks’ dad, “there is of course JW Dunne’s extraordinary book, An Experiment In Time.”
“What’s that about?” said Sparks.
“I don’t know,” said Sparks’ dad, “I haven’t read it.”
“He has no idea what he’s talking about,” explained Sparks’ mum, affectionately. “He rarely does these days.”
“Are you saying I’m going gaga?” asked Sparks’ dad.
“No, dear, it’s more that… well, when you were a lecturer you were always reading the newspapers and listening to the news and keeping up with things and now… you don’t.”
“I do! I get my journals.”
“Yes, but you don’t actually read them. You turn to the back and look at pictures of sheds.”
“I like sheds.”
Sparks didn’t wonder why abstruse academic journals had pictures of sheds in the back. Nor did he wonder why, given that his parents hadn’t had a civil conversation since their wedding (and even their “I dos” were said with a tone of disbelief), they were still together. He was Sparks, and he tended not to wonder about things. Except, now, with alternate worlds.
“So you don’t know anything about alternate worlds?” he said, a little doggedly.
“Um,” said Sparks’ dad. “Not per se.”
Sparks’ mum looked at him in an I-was-right faced kind of way.
“But,” said Sparks’ dad, “I have got a tape.”
“Ah ha!” said Sparks’ mum, in a voice that she thought was bitingly sarcastic but was in fact only slightly ironical. “The famous tape collection comes into its own at last! I knew it was worth buying that video recorder.”
“Exactly,” said Sparks’ dad, missing even the ironical tone, never mind the imagined sarcasm.
“Since 19-whenever we got that video machine, we have taped, I don’t know, every single documentary that has been on television, I believe…”
“Oh, surely not,” said Sparks’ dad. “For a start, I hate wildlife.”
“We have an entire room full of videos,” said Sparks’ mum. “I could have used that room. I could have learned to paint. The light is excellent in that room.”
“It hasn’t got any windows,” said Sparks’ dad.
“The electric light,” said Sparks’ mum. “I planned to paint still lifes by electric light. But instead all I do in that room is dust videos.”
“You exaggerate,” said Sparks’ dad, huffily.
“Some of those videos,” said Sparks’ mum, pointedly, “are on Betamax.”
“What’s Betamax?” said Sparks.
“Exactly,” said Sparks’ mum.
Fortunately, the video that Sparks’ dad believed to be about alternate worlds was not on Betamax. And, while it was very old, and contained several hours of golf in which now-dead light entertainment stars tried to keep up with equally now-dead proper golfers, there was a documentary on the end of the tape, and it was about alternate worlds.
Sparks took the video cosy off the video recorder. Sparks’ dad owned the world’s only video cosy, which was like a tea cosy only oblong. Sparks’ mum hated the video cosy, but it did
“Get down, Robert,” said Sparks’ dad who fortunately knew the dog, in fact had paid for it. “I’m having a serious conversation.”
“Robert,” said Sparks’ mum. “What a silly name for a dog. If that dog was human, he’d be furious if he knew you’d given him a name like that.”
“If he was human, he wouldn’t mind.” said Sparks’ dad.
“Robert’s a silly name,” Sparks’ mum said to the dog, “isn’t it, Boofles?”
Robert, who couldn’t have cared less if he’d been named Brave Lord Filth so long as he was fed and looked after, wandered off to sniff Sparks’ exotic urban groin.
“Alternate worlds,” said Sparks’ dad, who had no idea what he was talking about, “feature in much fiction.”
“I don’t care… I mean, I don’t mean fiction,” said Sparks. “I just wondered if there was any information about them outside fiction. I mean, in, er, non, er, fiction.”
“Well,” said Sparks’ dad, “there is of course JW Dunne’s extraordinary book, An Experiment In Time.”
“What’s that about?” said Sparks.
“I don’t know,” said Sparks’ dad, “I haven’t read it.”
“He has no idea what he’s talking about,” explained Sparks’ mum, affectionately. “He rarely does these days.”
“Are you saying I’m going gaga?” asked Sparks’ dad.
“No, dear, it’s more that… well, when you were a lecturer you were always reading the newspapers and listening to the news and keeping up with things and now… you don’t.”
“I do! I get my journals.”
“Yes, but you don’t actually read them. You turn to the back and look at pictures of sheds.”
“I like sheds.”
Sparks didn’t wonder why abstruse academic journals had pictures of sheds in the back. Nor did he wonder why, given that his parents hadn’t had a civil conversation since their wedding (and even their “I dos” were said with a tone of disbelief), they were still together. He was Sparks, and he tended not to wonder about things. Except, now, with alternate worlds.
“So you don’t know anything about alternate worlds?” he said, a little doggedly.
“Um,” said Sparks’ dad. “Not per se.”
Sparks’ mum looked at him in an I-was-right faced kind of way.
“But,” said Sparks’ dad, “I have got a tape.”
“Ah ha!” said Sparks’ mum, in a voice that she thought was bitingly sarcastic but was in fact only slightly ironical. “The famous tape collection comes into its own at last! I knew it was worth buying that video recorder.”
“Exactly,” said Sparks’ dad, missing even the ironical tone, never mind the imagined sarcasm.
“Since 19-whenever we got that video machine, we have taped, I don’t know, every single documentary that has been on television, I believe…”
“Oh, surely not,” said Sparks’ dad. “For a start, I hate wildlife.”
“We have an entire room full of videos,” said Sparks’ mum. “I could have used that room. I could have learned to paint. The light is excellent in that room.”
“It hasn’t got any windows,” said Sparks’ dad.
“The electric light,” said Sparks’ mum. “I planned to paint still lifes by electric light. But instead all I do in that room is dust videos.”
“You exaggerate,” said Sparks’ dad, huffily.
“Some of those videos,” said Sparks’ mum, pointedly, “are on Betamax.”
“What’s Betamax?” said Sparks.
“Exactly,” said Sparks’ mum.
Fortunately, the video that Sparks’ dad believed to be about alternate worlds was not on Betamax. And, while it was very old, and contained several hours of golf in which now-dead light entertainment stars tried to keep up with equally now-dead proper golfers, there was a documentary on the end of the tape, and it was about alternate worlds.
Sparks took the video cosy off the video recorder. Sparks’ dad owned the world’s only video cosy, which was like a tea cosy only oblong. Sparks’ mum hated the video cosy, but it did
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