DOODAH

Family games night was going so well until a trivia question had us discussing the shape of a pig’s doodah.

“Is it... a) corkscrew?” asked my Aunty, holding the card as studiously and closely to her face as was possible. “b) wider at the base than the tip? or c) cloven in two?”

I admired her shaking persistence. I think I would have read out a different question, played it safe, or excused myself from reading it at all. Within a few moments of ‘hilarity’ I was being subjected to the worst type of hypothetical questions; the ones that trail off into wordless imagination...

“But what would the female’s...”

“How does it...”

“Well that must be...”

I must remember to say nothing in these situations. Nothing is good, nothing is prudent, nothing is wise, Matt. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

And specifically this time, ‘nothing’ would have been about a thousand times better than what I actually did say in a sort of vain attempt to win the point. However, as it happened, two days ago, my Twitter-feed had indeed shown me an artist who had recreated animal appendages as sculptures for an installation somewhere, made out of bronze - had the caption not said anything, I would never have known. The quizzer in me likes little coincidences that crop up like that. So I blurted out...

“Oh it’s definitely corkscrew; I’ve seen it!”

Stunned faces round the table.

“No, I mean I’ve seen it... on the Internet...” I protested.

That did not help.

I then had to explain incredibly carefully that I had not been surfing ‘niche’ websites, despite being correct about the ... details. As my dad later sagely pointed out, ‘a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.’

I think it speaks a lot though about our family, that in the very same evening we found time to pray for each other, and specifically it seems, for me, while I try to balance the key areas of my life that are so tense at the moment. That was nice, if a little embarrassing. Though, to be honest, once you’ve been discussing the improbable mechanics of porcine copulation with your rather British and reserved family members who (understandably) want to know how you know so much about it, there’s not much room for further embarrassment to catch you really, is there?