A Clever Invention (part one)

You may have noticed that many houses in this country have placed in their front doors small rectangular holes with various sorts of more or less moveable covers. They remind me a little of cat-flaps, though they are generally far too small for a cat to squeeze through, and somewhat the wrong shape being wide enough for a cat, but not tall enough, I would think, even for a baby cat, and in any case they are usually too high up for a cat small enough to climb through to jump. Grown-up cats can jump, definitely, I’ve seen them, but a baby cat couldn’t jump that high, I’m sure. But this lack of accessibility to cats is, far from being a design flaw, actually very clever, as the purpose of these apertures is not to admit cats, but rather to allow a man to visit my house almost every day and push a variety of paper-based items through my door and onto the mat, where I can collect them later at my convenience. The beauty of this hole-in-the-door system is that it works even if I can’t come to the door, for example if I am on the toilet, or even not in the house at all, for example if I am at the shops.


  1. ditdotdat says:

    You say that. Half the time he leaves a small red calling card, even if I am merely upstairs in the lavatory* or, say, just sitting in the kitchen reading other people’s meanderings via the digital super-thing. I’m not saying I don’t like the card; in fact I love it. In particular it has a combination of slightly unhelpful multiple choice options and blank spaces with which a sort of contorted poetic sentence can be constructed. The sentence contains coy hints as to what he wants to give me and why he didn’t like to just go right ahead and leave it for me there and then. Once the card is left the proto-courtship can take two contrasting courses:
    1) I can visit a cunningly wrought reproduction of an East German Stasi outpost, created by that Swiss master of grimy realler-than-real, Christoph Buchel. I wait in an unconvincing queue composed of stock characters from ITV’s The Bill, and am told to come back later, after 1.45 PM, with a gas bill and a driving licence. No Sainsbury’s Nectar cards or Forces IDs allowed, never mind that you don’t get any utility bills any more because of saving the trees, well that’s not my problem is it.
    2) I can use my computer to request the man to bring the item again the day-after-tomorrow so that we can continue our little affair indefinitely or at least until my partner intervenes by catching him in the act, with his hands literally stuffed inside my gaping slot.


  2. Peter says:

    Is he by any chance trying to deliver a cat?