We have a poof in the family and his name is Abdul. It's no secret.


"GET OFF THE POOF!" I don't know how many times I was told that growing up...

"DO -NOT -SIT -ON -THE -POOF !"

..Which was not fair, since visitors were always allowed to. They probably could have even jumped on him if they wanted and my Mum would not have told them off! I could only ever jump on Abdul when she wasn't looking. Just perching on him cross-legged was the best thing - or lying on him watching TV, or singing "Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree ..." Sometimes I used to pretend I was riding a horse!

I remember inviting InstantJim over to my house one day, before we were married, and offering him the poof. I remember the funny funny look he gave me. (Like I was really queer and odd in some way or something!)

Poor old Abdul. He's a bit old and worn out now from all the wear and tear over the years. I can't say how old he is exactly, but my Mum first picked him up in the Middle East around the Suez canal donkeys years ago. And we've still got him with us, well with me to be more precise. ( My sister likes younger more modern poofs.) I had him living out in the shed for years, but that distressed him because his skin kind of cracked in the heat and grew mould in the winter (that Vaseline made no difference!), so I brought him inside again and now he lives in the laundry. No one sits on him anymore.

Still, he can look back on his career with pride. (But surely he must still be good for something? It just seems such a waste of all that leather!!)

Sometimes I wonder about that dear camel who gave his life for him.


And why the French spell it "pouffe".