A Story of a long time ago

Into this story I have put some interactive decision points. At each of them, decide what you might have done.

There were three little boys, called Iain, Al and Mom. They lived in a very windswept island, where it constantly rained and where the relentless Atlantic winds roared in most nights. But they were happy, knowing that they had two parents to protect them.

One night the parents had a couple of visitors. The little Al and Mom were sent off to bed; but the 10-yr-old Iain was allowed to stay up. Outside the wind howled; but inside the peat and the coal burned in the hearth. The visitors eventually said they had to go. Father offered to drive them home. He was a slightly uncertain driver, as are many of us in practising skills only acquired in our mid-50s (I cannot believe I have said this, but I have).

Mother said “I will go with you, John. The little Iain can lock the house behind us and he will know that only when he hears three short knocks on the door should he open it.”

Was she right in this decision?

Hard to know: to supervise a pretty incompetent 50-yr-old driving husband or to supervise a 10-yr-old carer in charge of an 8-yr-old and a 6-yr-old? Tough choice. She certainly broke the UK law, even then, about child supervision.

So back to my story. It was almost midnight. The somewhat pompous 10-yr-old Iain was sitting by the fire, nursing a Pinot Grigio (or a glass of milk); and musing on how life had now begun to give him the managerial roles that his skills so richly deserved. The winds were dying down, but the fire was still glowing. In the room there was a piano. And as he contemplated this world of which had just taken charge, the piano began to play. Mostly in arpeggios.

What would you have done?

Today I would have been terrified. But the super-confident 10-yr-old went up to the piano.

The piano went on playing; and the piano keys, with no player, were visibly going up and down.  Iain was puzzled. Eventually they stopped. There was little scurry of feet at the back of the piano. And a small mouse hared across the room.

10 minutes later, there are three knocks at the door; and Iain let his parents into the house. “How did you get on, Iain?”. “Fine- apart from the piano playing.”

How would you as a parent have responded?

I would have been agitated at having 10-yr-old capable of being so over-imaginative.

But instead my mother poured me another glass of Pinot Grigio or possibly milk; and my father set a mousetrap in the room. They made a cup of tea. And within 5 minutes the poor mouse was captured in the trap.

Moral of this story: that is for you, not me. But the 10/20/30/40/50/60-yr-old Iain has since never believed in ghost stories.