Ken Elswick was a retired archivist known to list stone-skipping as one of his many hobbies. He owned a labrador named ‘Future’ and held to a variety of unusual beliefs, including the idea that tennis balls could feel pain.
In his later years he’d occupied himself with volunteer work down at the local animal shelter and frequent birdwatching in the hope of one day spotting the elusive blue-footed booby. He’d also taken to home renovation – with gusto.
One bright summer’s morning he and his wife Booka, who had a fondness for the color oatmeal and looks-wise was a dead-ringer for Bea Arthur from ‘The Golden Girls’, decided to replace the wallpaper in their upstairs bedroom. This was done partly out of boredom and partly out of a long-harbored dislike for the original wallpaper, the pattern of which Ken had often referred to as resembling a ‘murky yellow-brown Christmas sweater’.
A few hours into their project, Ken had gone downstairs to make tea while Booka, who unlike her name implied, was not very bookish at all but rather of a far more practical nature, continued applying the vinegar and warm water solution to the wall to lift the glue. “You’re not going to believe what I see Ken!” His wife called down to him.
“What is it?” he yelled back, projecting his voice in the direction of the upstairs room while reaching for two flower-decorated saucers from the shelf.
“It’s easier if you come and see,” replied Booka, barely able to disguise her excitement.
With teatray in hand, Ken ascended the carpeted stairs, took two breaths at the top and entered the room. What greeted him on the far wall, with his wife standing alongside still clutching a putty knife in one hand and a spray bottle in the other, was a most unusual site.
“What in the name of Bob Menzies is that?”
“Don’t you mean who is that?” corrected Booka in a small, almost whispered voice whileflexing her toes which suddenly felt constricted inside her grey fur slippers.
Beneath the peeled back layer of old wallpaper was a faded portrait of a young woman wearing a black ‘Wednesday Adams’ dress with a white collar and rolled up sleeves. Ken’s immediate thought was the woman looked like she could be the younger sister of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, with a hint of his well-endowed niece Dimity thrown in for good measure.
His second thought, inspired to say the least, was to see if he could order ‘Mona Lisa’ wallpaper for the entire room. Booka regarded that as an idea that should be catapulted into the sun, but with a promise of taking her to Peru for their next vacation, somehow Ken eventually won out.
Three days later several packaged rolls of the very unique wallpaper arrived on their front doorstep. By the following week their decorating was complete. With champagne glass raised to the ceiling andan ironic smileflushed with tinges of mystery and wisdom spread across his face, Ken declared “Our room is a goddam masterpiece”. Booka wasn’t so sure, choosing instead to picture the pristine waters of Northen Peru’s Lake Titihaha.
