Crossed Wires

   “They got a lot more interesting towards the end, didn’t they!” said Gordon as he switched off the projector. “Especially those views of the Statue of Liberty - looked a wee bit mossy, though.”
Greg was non-committal, having slept through the best part, but at least he could supply a relevant piece of information.  “That’ll be the verdigris.  It’s the bane of copper and bronze!”
   “Probably poisonous, too!” added Syd as he gently rolled up the screen.
Greg watched helplessly as Mrs. G. bumped one of the speakers.  He felt an empathy towards it and winced.  He excused himself from the chaos and said he’d be getting to bed for a few hours, but was surprised to see when he stood up that all the other guests had gone.
   “Brenda and Derek are staying here the night.” said Mrs. G. above the noise of a vacuum cleaner she’d just switched on to threaten the more sturdy furniture.  “We’ll call you all when it’s time!”
   “Aye, when it’s time to turn back time!” chuckled Gordon.  “It’s a wee custom that few folk observe now.”
Greg went up, saying he’d see them later, accompanied up the stairs by the drone of the cleaner and its frequent collisions with the skirting boards.  Tomorrow, before leaving, he’d try and restore equilibrium to the altered room, although the spikes on Mrs. G.’s cactus probably mitigated against soothing ethereal harmonies, especially those found in Gordon’s recordings of  the Songs of the Auvergne.  The tenets of Feng Shui were nothing compared with Deci-Belle’s rigorous creed of ideal arrangements.  He lay wide awake on his bed, anticipating the family ritual that was to follow, and his own tactful ritual on behalf of ideal listening."