Andy KJ Cragg

Tea-Towel

This is the thirteenth this month, how many now? And why do they always find themselves keeping a diary?

To : 2121@2121-investigations.org

From : Martin’s Rare Books Inc, Madison Ave, New York

Subject : Another one

Hi 2,

This is the thirteenth this month, how many now? And why do they always find themselves keeping a diary?

Always,

Martin x

Attachment

I have a favourite tea-towel, it’s a simple one, white with red squares on it, a classic, if you like. Yesterday I was drying up my favourite mug, the one shaped like a Cadbury’s Creme Egg. Coffee tastes better in that mug for some reason, maybe due to its rounded shape. I fumbled and saw the cup in the air for a bit before it was inevitably going to heartbreakingly smash into little pieces on the stone kitchen floor. As I looked to see the disaster, I noticed that the cup was still there, hanging in the air. Thinking this was one of those slow-motion things that seem to happen, I stood there for a bit then instinctively went to rescue the cup from the air. I thought my arm would move at an equally slow pace, but it didn’t. I caught the cup and gently put it down on the kitchen counter, all intact. The cup still needed drying but I wasn’t going to chance it again, I left it there to dry out overnight.

This morning I made a cup of coffee in the Creme Egg mug and it did taste better than usual, even though it was only instant coffee. This has surprised me before, so I didn’t think much more about it and enjoyed the coffee. I washed up the mug, and let it drain on the drainer by the sink. The tea-towel was neatly arranged, as usual, over the handle of the cooker. Which was odd because I didn’t remember putting it there yesterday when the cup-in-mid-air miracle happened. To be honest, I don’t remember what I did with the tea-towel after I left the Creme Egg cup on the counter to dry.

I went out shopping, as is my wont on Saturday mornings, to get some items that had run out: tea bags, a new pan scrubber, cornflakes and best get some good proper coffee in as well, my coffee machine had sat there for a while, unused, so I thought I’d get it going again. I bought a lemon for this and came back, unpacked the shopping and began to clean the coffee machine with water and lemon juice, several cups of water through the machine to clean it out. Then I made some proper coffee into an espresso cup and looked for my Creme Egg mug. Nowhere to be seen. Oddly, I looked for the tea-towel as well, and that was still in its place. I definitely put the mug on the drainer, but it was no longer there. It was in the cupboard where it normally lives. I don’t use it that often, it doesn’t hold much coffee and I don’t like to use it too much, and wash it up too much in case the pattern fades. It’s my favourite mug.

I also have a least favourite mug. One given to me by a former friend with whom I had a bit of a falling out. The mug reminds me of her, and so I don’t use it. As an experiment I got it out from the back of the cupboard, washed it up and dried it using the magical tea-towel, deliberately fumbling with it but it just crashed to the floor and spread its shards about all over the place. It took a while to find them all and bin them. I’m not going to try that experiment again with any of my mugs, as I pretty much like them all now.

This evening I was watching something on Netflix that wasn’t too taxing and mildly diverting when the internet went down. The programme carried on from its buffering and I got involved with who was doing what to whom, until I realised that the internet was still down after twenty minutes. My phone and laptop both showing connection errors. When it was clear who was doing what to whom, Netflix had its error. The lights went out as well. I’m writing this down in long-hand by candlelight, I’ll type it up later. I didn’t know I had any candles, nor matches to light them with, it’s all electric here, no gas. Sometimes it’s very nice to be sitting inside in candlelight, very cosy and primitive, quiet and comforting.

So, I’m typing this up now. The lights and the internet are all alive and well and it’s gone midnight, so I shall say goodnight. [Not much to write up I guess, just a bit of weirdness, probably my age, and my mind going a bit daft. Let’s see what happens tomorrow, anything of note will be in this file.]

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These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.