We’re going to a wedding on Saturday. The friends concerned are decidely vanilla. His parents are certainly not. Let me explain.
Said parents were away when we first visited their house. Son sits us down, disappears to fetch drinks. And our eyes simultaneously come to rest on the huge plant pot in the corner of the living room.
We wandered over, as if in shock: yes, it was stashed with the most impressive collection of crook-handled school canes that I have ever seen: junior, senior, in every conceivable degree of whippiness.
Our friend came back in. “Camel whips,” he explained. “Dad collected them when he lived in the Middle East.”
We – just – managed to surpress our giggles. Later research confirmed that camel whips don’t come with crook handles. Not that either of us are likely to mistake the traditional school rattan, in any case.
I’m just looking forward to the speeches at the wedding reception at the weekend: “We’d like to thank my parents for their kind gift of a camel whip from their priceless collection.” I promise not to laugh out loud.
Or maybe it should be you they write the note to.
After all, you could give them one and then enclose a note saying you don’t think any household should be without at least one camel whip.
Then the parents might become interested in you! I mean, for reasons other than your (collective) natural good looks and charm.
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