A Conversation with Mum That’s a Trap For Young Players

I get this text from Mum:

Heading over to the Isle of Man and doing a 3 day course in London.  Details later.  Don’t call.

It’s hard to judge which the most extraordinary thing is.  The Isle of Man—I’m not even sure where that is, a course in London, or the fact there are no phonetically spelled words in this text.

I wait.

She calls that night.

Mum:    Any news?  How’s the cat?

Me:        The cat is fine.  If he’s still sick he doesn’t know it.  What about your news?

Mum:    No news.

Me:        No news?

Mum:    That’s what I just said.

Me:        Isn’t this details later?

Mum:    Details of what?

Me:        I think about the lack of phonetic spelling but the truth is stranger than fiction.  London

Mum:    Oh yes, Maureen is going again.

Me:        And you’re going with her?

Mum:    I should.

Me:        What about this course then?

Mum:    What course?

Me:        I smell a trap and I am the rat.  The three day one.

Mum:    Who do you think you’re talking to?

Me:        My mother, who sent me at a text that said:  Heading over to the Isle of Man and doing a 3 day course in London.  Details later.  Don’t call.

Mum:    Oh you are silly.  That’s your brother.

Me:        You just forwarded his text to you to me didn’t you?

Mum:    Nothing but laughter.