Something in The Water…
So, back safe and well in Cyprus, having narrowly avoided mercury poisoning in Scotland. We were staying at my aunt’s when one afternoon over a cup of coffee she casually asked us if we had noticed anything strange in the loo. Actually we had, but decided it was probably polite not to mention it.
It turns out that a couple of days before our arrival she had seen what looked like a silver chain lurking at the bottom of the toilet. Armed with rubber gloves and a sense of curiosity she set out to retrieve the item, only to discover it was, in fact, little balls of mercury. Her curiosity was suddenly roused into perplexity followed by mild panic, and so she decided to call the Scottish Office. By the time she was put through to the environmental department visions of being splashed across the front page of every newspaper in the country and being the main feature on BBC One’s Reporting Scotland were running through her head. “Concerned Edinburgh Resident Discovers Mercury Contamination in Domestic Water Supply”, type of thing. The conversation that then followed apparently went something like:
“Environmental Department, can I help you?”
“Yes, there’s something very strange going on here. I’ve discovered mercury at the bottom of my loo. I think my water supply is contaminated.”
“Mercury, you say madam. How did it get there?”
“Well, you tell me,” she answered in her most indignant tone.
“Are you absolutely sure it’s mercury?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
“And can I ask how you can be so certain that it is mercury.”
“I did have chemistry lessons at school you know.”
Obviously having given such a winning argument she was then put through to a more senior official who spent the entire conversation assuring my aunt that if there was a mercury contamination in Edinburgh’s water supply he was fairly certain that he would have heard more about it than one telephone call from a clearly deranged attention-seeking nutcase from Leith. (Okay, he didn’t say that last part but I’m quite sure that was what he was thinking). When my aunt showed no sign of giving up he finally said, “The only thing I can think of that contains mercury is a thermometer. Is there any chance you may have broken a thermometer?”
“Harumph. I can assure you that I would remember if I had broken a thermom… Oh bugger. Um, excuse me, I have to go, someone’s at the door….,” she mumbled as an enormous light bulb switched itself on above her head.
My uncle had been rather ill, and my aunt was checking his temperature regularly but one day she noticed that the temperature on the thermometer didn’t seem to be changing at all.
She had just finished making a pot of soup and it was bubbling away on the stove so she did what any sane and rational person would do and plunged the thermometer into the pot for a few seconds, confident that boiling soup would jolt the thermometer into action. It didn’t. A quick glance showed no movement on the mercury line, so she tossed the thing into the bin.
Having tasted the soup before any of these shenanigans, she realised it was pretty horrid so they didn’t eat it that night but, once it had cooled, put it in the fridge anyway in case my uncle was desperate for something the next day whilst she was at work. A day or so later she had poured the soup down the loo and thought no more about it.
That was, until she realised that the boiling soup must have shattered the glass allowing the mercury to fall into the soup. The soup that she had left for her husband to eat whilst she was at work…
There then followed a frantic call to my uncle. By the time she was put through to him, visions of being splashed across the front page of every newspaper in the country and being the main feature on BBC One’s Reporting Scotland were running through her head. “Evil Edinburgh Resident Poisons Husband With Mercury Soup”, type of thing. The conversation that then followed apparently went something like:
“Did you eat the soup?”
“What? Oh, hello dear. I’m in the middle of something, can this wait?”
“No. Just tell me, did you eat the soup?”
“What soup?”
“The soup I made the other day that wasn’t very nice but I put in the fridge for you anyway?”
“Um…..”
“Think man think. DID YOU EAT THE BLOODY SOUP?”
“Ah, that soup. Er, no, I didn’t. You said it was horrid. By the way, have you managed to call the environmental department yet?”
“Er, okay, have to go. Someone’s at the door…”
And with that, she headed to the kitchen to pour herself a large stiff gin.
