It’s raining cats and dogs

March 15 2020 – shortly before the first lockdown.

My father rang just as BBC R4 Archers was beginning. Philip questions his future and Ed has concerns was the tantalising opening from the announcer. But the shrill telephone sounded and, as a polite child, I answered. It was Dad, as usual oblivious to the sacred Archer time.

Dad – Corris (83) force of nature, antiques dealer

“Well HELLO!” he boomed delighted that he hadn’t been met with an answering machine. ‘HELLO!  WELL – HERE WE ARE AND THERE YOU GO. You’ll never guess WHO came into the Antique Centre today - Go on have a guess!

“Who did you say? – Joan Collins – who’s that – never heard of her. No, you’ll never guess – well try. THINK – LAST PERSON ON EARTH YOU CAN IMAGINE.  No – not the Queen of Sheba. No – do take seriously. No!

“Well I’ll have to tell you - It was BORIS JOHNSON, CARRIE and dog DILYN. Yes. In the shop, TODAY.

“Then PRITTI! 

(Pritti – Dad’s dog – uncertain parentage & pedigree – rescued from Romania)

“Then Pritti – flew out from behind the desk, attacked Dilyn. Vicious, tried to kill him – no question. Security guards had to separate them.”

I sat down wondering whether Pritti was a secret Remainer, living in the house of Brexit and whether she, not Philip, should question her future.

“WHAT’S THAT? Oh NO! Boris and Carrie could not have been more charming. Don’t worry Corris, they said. SO IN LOVE – SO DELIGHTFUL. Well they had a look around the centre and come back holding a Staffordshire cat – from my stand. THRILLED. Carrie adored it, must have it.

But Is it an antique Corris? Boris asked me – so I looked him in the eye IT’S GOT A BIT OF AGE BORIS.”

(NB – all antique dealers say this – all of them – and it’s not a word of a lie.

“They decided to buy cat. I wrapped it up and put the card through. £75 including discount. MOST generous of me I must say. Such a lovely couple, so handsome and happy. They said goodbye and off they went. To car. THEN I LOOKED AT RECEIPT. Guess what?”

(Frankly beyond guessing at this point but sensed that Corris has concerns.)

“Wrong decimal point. Only charged them £0.75p. DISASTER. Hared after them. Up the hill – you know steep hill. Still there. Car not moved. I banged on the window.

“YOU’VE GOT TO COME BACK BORIS – YOU OWE ME MONEY.

“So charming, so considerate. Back they came and paid again. Everything was all fine. BUT THEN! Realised I owed Boris 75p. Didn’t have change. No idea how to refund on card.

“Don’t worry about it Corris. Do not worry, they said and off they went – to Chequers I suppose.” Dad sighed.

 “It’s like the old times. REMEMBER? You must remember -  When Princess Margaret would come in and expect to find a glass of scotch on the rocks waiting for her. Staff would phone ahead. Do you know, I think she thought all antique shops kept a full tumbler permanently on the counter?” He paused. “Well we did really, usually have a bottle somewhere – finding the ice was the problem. Those were the days!”

The Johnsons unexpected visit had made Dad’s week if not his entire year. I remain to this day truly grateful that Boris’ security shot neither Pritti nor Dad during their joint assaults on Dilyn and the Premier’s vehicle. However, during all the shenanigans of wallpaper and party-gate I can’t help but think that somewhere high on a mantelpiece at number 10, a small china cat has overseen wonders.

Written by Sarah Keen