Thursday, October 9, 2008
Why I love Road Dahl
~ An extract from The Witches, a conversation between Grandmamma and her grandson who has been turned into a mouse ~
We were silent for a few minutes, my grandmother puffing away at her black cigar while I dozed comfortably in the warmth.
"Can I ask you something, Grandmma?" I said.
"Ask my anything you like, my darling."
"How long does a mouse live?"
"Ah," she said. "I've been waiting for you to ask me that."
There was a silence. She sat there smoking away and gazing at the fire.
"Well," I said. "How long do we live, us mice?"
"I have been reading about mice," she said, "I'm afraid a mouse doesnt live for a very long time."
"How long?" I asked.
"Well, an ordinary mouse only lives for about three years," she said. "But you are not an ordinary mouse. You are a mouse-person, and that is a very different matter."
"How different?" I asked. "How long does a mouse-person live, Grandmamma?"
"Longer," she said. "Much longer."
"How much longer?" I asked.
"A mouse-person will almost certainly live for three times as long as an ordinary mouse," my grandmother said. "About nine years."
"Good!" I cried. "That's great! It's the best news I've ever had!"
"Why do you say that?" she asked, surprised.
"Because I would never want to live longer than you," I said. "I couldn't stand being looked after by anybody else."
There was a short silence. She had a way of fondling me behind the ears with the tip of one finger. It felt lovely.
"How old are you, Grandmamma?" I asked.
"I'm eighty-six," she said.
"Will you live another eight or nine years?"
"I might," she said. "With a bit of luck."
"You've got to," I said. "Because by then I'll be a very old mouse and you'll be a very old grandmother and soon after that we'll both die together."
"That would be perfect," she said.
I had a little doze after that. I just shut my eyes and thought of nothing and felt at peace with the world.
"Would you like me to tell you something about yourself that is very interesting?" my grandmother said.
"Yes please, Grandmamma," I said, without opening my eyes.
"I couldn't believe it at first, but apparently it's quite true," she said.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The heart of a mouse," she said, "and that means your heart, is beating at the rate of five hundred times a minute! Isn't that amazing?"
"That's not possible," I said, opening my eyes wide.
"It's as true as I'm sitting here," she said. "It's a sort of miracle."
"That's nearly nine beats every second!" I cried, working it out in my head.
"Correct," she said. "Your heart is going so fast it's impossible to hear the separate beats. All one hears is a soft humming sound."
She was wearing a lace dress and the lace kept tickling my nose. I had to rest my head on my front paws.
"Have you ever heard my heart humming away, Grandmamma?" I asked her.
"Often," she said. "I hear it when you are lying very close to me on the pillow at night."
The two of us remained silent in front ot the fire for a long time after that, thinking about these wonderful things.
"My darling," she said at last," are you sure you don't mind being a mouse for the rest of your life?"
"I don't mind at all," I said.
"It doesnt matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you."
9:56 PM