Random reminder

Press, 25 July 1984, Page 35

Random reminder

IT GETS ON ONE’S GOAT

There was once a woman who had custody of a billy goat Her stalwart son, who owned the beast, anchored it each morning to a fresh patch of grass, waved them both a tender goodbye and went off to his work in the city. In those days goats were seldom seen on the outskirts of suburbia and were, at least by reputation, bigger, fiercer, craftier and more malevolent than the pleasant creatures which abound today. The woman, therefore, respected the goat and endeavoured never to turn her back on it. The goat just bided his time until, having lulled her into a state of false security, he showed his superiority and disdain by chewing through his rope to enjoy an irregular series of frolicsome promenades on the hillside. The woman became very fit and nimble on her feet and progressively more discontented with her lot.

One quiet sunny afternoon a group of ladies were daintily taking tea at a house much further up the hill. Cream cakes were dropped in alarm as a noise like a thunderixilt hit the iron roof and reverberated above them. Bravely the hostess crept to the door and peeped out Over the guttering an evil, horned and bewhiskered face peered down at her. “It’s the devil!” she gasped and slammed the door. From the window the ladies saw another figure approaching waving a stick and shouting ferociously. The woman apologised for the long sortie made by the goat and the way it had jumped the gap between the hillside and the house roof. Her language was rich and full of expletive. The daughter of the house learned many interesting new words that day.