You are married to someone for more than a quarter of a century and just when you think you know everything about them you make a stunning discovery. The conversation goes like this.
"What is a mongoose anyway?"
"You've never read Riki Tiki Tavi?"
"You have! Rudyard Kipling. It kills snakes "
"We could Google some pictures"
"No that would spoil it"
Perhaps I'd better rewind a little.
There is something or some things that visit our attic. We can hear it/them at night tippety tapping about. During the day the only evidence is bits of beetle carapace and little droppings but not mouse droppings.
TS says it's a mongoose. I had been working under the assumption that he knew what a mongoose was.
When Mimo starts venturing up the attic steps he tells her to watch out for the mongoose. When we can't find things the mongoose has taken it.
The mongoose is up there now as I type.
I don't quite know what mythical beast the word mongoose conjours up for TS I only know he doesn't want to know what's in the attic. He's happy for it to be a mongoose
I'm happy that we've got a door on the bedroom. I'll be even happier when Mimo is of a size to go mongoose hunting.