Close Encounters of the Dirt Kind...

Our children have always welcomed a plethora of imaginary friends into our home, starting off with my daughter's partners in crime, Dolla and Dilla, who arrived when she was around 15 months old. They lived with us for around two and a half years before taking themselves off "on holiday" never to be seen again. Recently I asked her whether she had heard from them, to be told rather matter of factly that they are now dead. She didn't seem too bothered by this, but I did feel a pang of sadness that this part of her childhood is now over. My son also has a couple of imaginary friends currently in existence, who are also (rather conveniently) his hands. "Bulgus" and "Dinty" are "brothers" who have lived with us for around two years now, and are to blame whenever something has "happened". It wasn't me, it was my naughty hand, is quite often heard in this house (imaginary friends do come in useful from time to time though, especially when having to tidy away things, or serving them food that they are not so keen on, "it wasn't mummy it was so and so", calls their bluff a little sometimes!)...

You can perhaps appreciate then at being told by my four year old that there was a man in a top hat in the garden, I just muttered "oh really, that's nice" without really bothering to look. Then I discovered that there was actually a real man in a top hat in the garden, and thus we met our first Danish Chimney Sweep in full traditional regalia. When he worked out I wasn't Danish, he wanted to know if I had ever heard of Hans Christian Andersen, pointing to his outfit (which initially made me quite worried that he wasn't actually there to do any chimney sweeping, he just liked dressing up), but no, he was actually "a dentist for fireplaces" after all. After the winter we have had, I imagined our fireplace would probably need a few fillings after trying to get through that pile of wood we had ordered. So I let him in (although I hadn't booked an appointment, this is the time of year he normally comes apparently!), and seized the opportunity to ask whether I could take his picture. He seemed a bit surprised that I should want a picture of him in his elaborate gear though, "don't chimney sweeps in the UK wear this?" he asked, and then went on to tell me how it took him 8 years alone to be allowed to wear his top hat. When I told him that chimney sweeps in the UK usually just wear overalls and carry vacuum cleaners, he looked crestfallen and said he felt very sorry for them.