Uncle Rufus

I have never told you about my uncle Rufus. He was a small diminutive man who kept racing pigeons as a hobby. He never won a race. The pigeons always finished first!

He worked as a Safety Officer in a mine. They used to tie a rope around his waist and lower him down the mine. If he did not faint it was safe to go down the mine and work. Otherwise they'd pull him up, revive him, and lower him down again a few minutes later to check once more.

He lived to a ripe old age. I once asked him, "What is the secret to a long life?"

He replied, "Keep breathing!"

Which is ironic considering that it was this that made him faint so many times.

He didn't speak much, my uncle. But often had short phrases which he said every now and then by way of dispensing advice to his young nephew.

For example, he used to tell me, "Always take everything with a pinch of salt!" Mind you, he made a terrible cup of tea.

When the other school kids used to tease me, my uncle Rufus always advised, "Sticks and stones may break my bones; but words will never hurt me!" Until one day a printing press fell on him.

Whenever there was an argument he said, "Always fight fire with fire!" I guess that's probably why he lost his job from the Fire Brigade and they made him Safety Officer instead.

He often experimented with new things and was famous for inventing a dog food that tasted of a postman's leg.

He always tried the dog food to see if it tasted all right before giving it to our Alsatian dog "Sit". For some reason this dog was always confused when we called him. I wonder why.

Tasting the dog food landed my uncle in hospital for Emergency Room treatment. One day, whilst walking down the street, he bent down to sniff a poodle's backside and a car hit him. 

As a child, I always had a fear of someone under the bed at night. Monsters, or ghouls or such like. So my parents took me to a shrink and told him, ''Our son has got problems.  Every night time when he goes to bed he thinks there’s somebody under it.  He's scared.  We think he's going crazy. Can you help him, doctor?”

The psychiatrist explained, “Just put him in my hands for one year. I'll see him three times a week and we should be able to get rid of those fears.” 

“How much do you charge?” they asked. 

“One hundred fifty pounds per visit,” replied the doctor.

Well, it was too expensive for my poor parents. There was no way they could afford that sort of money to treat my fears, especially since they had just returned from a world cruise and received delivery of a brand new luxury car. I mean ... medical costs were too expensive in those days. 

As a child I also had sticking out ears. My ears stuck out from the side of my head. I looked like a car with its doors open. My parents could only afford to treat one ear at a time. I had an operation on one ear; and then had to wait for another year before they could afford an operation on the other ear. 

For a whole year I walked around with one normal ear and another one still sticking out. At the slightest breeze I used to spin round like a hotel revolving door! 

Anyway, my parents decided not to go ahead with the psychiatrist treatment of my fear of monsters under my bed, and discussed the matter with uncle Rufus instead. 

Six months later the doctor met me on the street. “Why didn't you come to see me about those fears you were having?” he asked. 

“Well, £150 a visit, three times a week for a year, is £23,400. That was too much for my parents to pay. So they discussed it with uncle Rufus and he cured me for nothing.” 

“Is that so?” with a bit of an attitude the shrink said, “and how, may I ask, did your uncle cure you?” 

“He cut the legs off the bed. Ain’t nobody under there now.” I replied.

Ah ... dear uncle Rufus. I remember him fondly every night I go to sleep on my low down bed.

I remember many years ago when his wife was expecting a baby. He shouted frantically into the phone, "My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart!"

"Is this her first child?" asked the hospital nurse. 

"No", he replied, "this is her husband!"

A few hours later the baby was born and mother and child, were doing OK. Uncle Rufus and his wife Edna could not decide what to call my new cousin.

Uncle Rufus said, "We have got to be spontaneous in life."

He decided to take their dog for a walk by the cemetery. He said that the first grave the dog shows an interest in by lifting his leg, the name on that grave would be the name they will call the new baby.

His wife was too tired to argue and she agreed.

They called my cousin fire hydrant !!!