This week’s selection of words to play with is: Curtsey Debase Game Answer Plum Real Swear Shoe Aftermath Malengine (evil machination, deceit) Stalk Master
When Uncle Boris died we all felt that one of the truly great characters in our family had left such a hole no one would ever fill.
He called himself a biophysiologist. What exactly that was no one was ever sure for when we looked for it in the dictionary the meaning never shed a lot of light on it either. So rather than debase his work as nothing more than a play on words, we accepted him for what he said he was, a real scientist.
My father loved to visit but my mother always felt she should be curtsying to him such was the air of superiority he was gave out whenever she came around.
The day after he died the newspapers carried a story in which he was referred to as a malengine of scientific research. His work drawn into question more I think because of the strange collection of artefacts found in his home when the police broke in and discovered his body.
In one corner of his study was a collection of brown shoes, no great issue until they realised that each shoe had a different foot stuck in it.
There were no immediate answers to the discoveries. The aftermath of the revelations was so much speculation that after a while you weren’t sure which game it was the papers were playing other than the selling of as many copies as possible.
The most puzzling thing was the pantry full of plum sauce, all home made presumably by Uncle Boris and I swear it was the finest tasting plum sauce I had ever come across. Rather than let it go to waste it was later sold at the annual church fete after we had taken our own plentiful supply.
There were of course rumours a plenty about his nocturnal activities, reports of him stalking various town identities none of which was ever proved, that he was a regular attendee at every funeral in town insisting that he be allowed to view the decease’s feet.
An example of his eccentricity was how it was explained away, we all exhibited odd behaviours from time to time and Uncles Boris’ was feet, dead ones.
At his funeral Master O’Brien the founder of the towns scientific and creative arts group spoke most eloquently about my Uncle.
The Master said Uncle had an answer to every problem, wore a different pair of shoes every day, loved a good game of tennis and was in all respects the real deal. Shame he remarked how in his entire life time Uncle Boris never actually achieved anything noteworthy of a scientific nature but could make one hell of plum sauce. Which in itself was remarkable, as no one had seen plums growing in our area in over a hundred years.