Read Online When Mum Went Funny by Jack Lasenby - Free Book Online Page B

notice and tried to sell us.”
    “Yes, but my notice didn’t say things like, ‘One Fat Mother. As is, where is’, and ‘Any offer considered’. Let alone, ‘Free to a good home’. Besides,” Mum said, “nobody had time to read my notice before you pulled it down.”
    “Who read our one?”
    “Several cars stopped and looked at our gate. I didn’t take any notice, because people often pull up and take a look at a farm. Then somebody got out of a car and came over to the gate with a camera and took a snap. I thought then there must be something funny going on.
    “But I didn’t see your notice till I went down to the gate, to get the mail and the paper and, by that time, everyone along our road must have stopped and readit. I’ll be the laughing stock of the district.”
    “Did anyone try to buy you?” asked Betty.
    “Nobody. Not a single offer!” Mum’s voice went very high and small. She sat down and flung her apron over her head. Jimmy put his arms round her and cuddled her. “There, there! It’s all right. We’ll buy you, Mum. We’ll give you a good home.”
    “As is, where is!” said Kate.
    “Fancy your own children saying they’ll give you away,” Mum cried. “‘To a good home!’ It makes me sound like a worn-out old horse without any teeth. ‘Any offer considered!’”
    “Don’t forget you sold us for sixpence.”
    “Sixpence each!” Mum took the apron off her head and looked at Kate. “Besides, that was just fun.”
    “This was just fun, too. Can’t you take a joke, Mum?”
    “There’s jokes and jokes, my girl, as you’ll find out before you’re much older. And I don’t think this one’s very funny.”
    “You started it.”
    “Yes, but I didn’t know you’d try and give me away. At least, I charged for you.”
    They were still arguing when I went down to the shed for something. Rosie was drifting up the race from the paddock where she’d been feeding, taking her time, so I slipped into the shed, and looked at the old cups hanging between the bails. Sure enough, the inflation rubbers were still inside them. Some were perished,but I found a few that were still pretty good, stretchy red rubber.
    I put some water in the bath on Dad’s old grindstone, and turned the handle with my left hand. The grindstone went round and round, the bottom half running through the water. With my right hand, I held the big blade of my pocket knife against the turning wheel of stone. It was hard keeping the pressure on, so I tried turning with my right hand and holding the knife with my left, but that was worse. My left hand went up and down, wanting to do what my right hand was doing. I sharpened the other side of the blade, and tried the edge. Real sharp!
    “Moo!” Old Rosie was watching me, her head stuck around the door.
    “Hold on,” I told her. “You’re a bit early, aren’t you?”
    “Moo!”
    I sliced one of the inflation rubbers. The blade cut through easily, and gave me a strong rubber ring. Although Rosie mooed and shoved and clattered with her feet, I cut about thirty rings. I had to stop, once, and whip my knife up and down on the concrete the way Dad used to do.
    At last, I stuck all the rubber rings and the knife in my pocket. “All right, come on, then!” I walked up to the house, Rosie bumping me with her head and rubbing her wet mouth on the back of my shirt. When I left her at the back gate and went in for the bucket, sheran up and down and mooed so loudly Mum came out to see what was going on.
    “Poor thing,” she said, “of course you feel uncomfortable . Never mind, Rosie, that wicked boy’s getting the bucket. You’ll be all right,” and Rosie mooed back at her, then I was there, and she was standing quiet. Just once, she swished her tail round and caught me in the face. Luckily there was no muck on it.
    “You didn’t seem to take long over milking her. Did you strip her properly?”
    I showed Mum the bucket. “She gave lots.” I shot out the door