Recaro made an appointment with the TV guy to fix up the TV aerial for our bedroom TV. The guy was eventually found wandering up and down our street by Recaro after he had collected Peaches from the childminder at 5.30pm.
TV man is in his late twenties and it was all too apparent that he thought children were an alien species. He would have preferred the Ministry of Defence to have sent out a squad of extra-terrestrial experts to apprehend this miniature, would-be human. Anything, basically, that could have prevented him from making first contact.
His regard for Peaches was reciprocated. However, instead of wanting to run and hide, she was ready to embrace this alien creature and find out more about him. And what better way to build a relationship, than to target the object of interest with plenty of attention?
She followed him around like a bad smell. She stood and whined on the doorstep when he went to collect different bits of aerial kit. She gazed in awe at his feet dangling from the loft hatch. Was there anything this new two-legged creation couldn't do?
To test out his sensory abilities, she paraded about with her rabbit on her head, demanding all the while, 'Look. Look. Rabbit!'
It took a little while, but eventually there was a glimmer of understanding. Despite all appearances of being socially inept and struggling with basic language skills, TV guy took a wild guess (he went for the 50:50 - perhaps he didn't have a friend) and acknowledged that it was indeed a rabbit on her head.
No chance, her work was done, she'd broken TV guy's spirit. She'd made him ask the name of her dolly. D'huh! It's baby, dummy. She knew there was nothing more to gain from this shallow dalliance.
But how would she get out of this situation? Would she have to speak to the lesser being again?
She thought for a moment. 'I'm shy', she declared and hid her head.
But of course. Wasn't it obvious all along?