We All Have That One Show We’d Die For

My mum has a severe lung condition which causes her to get very out of breath from walking any faster than a turtle on land. We both enjoy watching the old crime drama “Poirot,” and we have seen every episode multiple times. Or so we thought.

Mum’s left the TV on a channel playing “Poirot” reruns, disappearing off to do something upstairs after one episode ends – she’s not precious about making sure she’s there to see another since she’s seen them all. I’m doing other things whilst in the same room when the next one starts. It takes a hot minute for me to realise that I can’t place this episode

Me: *Yelling* “Mum, do you remember the Poirot episode where a girl dressed as a bumblebee is drowned in an apple-bobbing tub at a Hallowe’en party?”

Mum: *Distantly* “What?”

Me: “A bumblebee girl getting murdered.”

There’s a bang, followed by frantic footsteps as she runs downstairs and into the living room and flies to her seat. As a result, she’s bent forward in her chair and is “whistling,” a bad sign that she’s not taking in enough air, so I rush up and get her inhaler.

Me: *Alarmed* “Why did you just do that?!”

Mum: “Poirot… I’ve… not… seen!“

Me: “It’s not worth killing yourself over!”

Mum: “Yes, it is!“

She was fine. I was very anxious for about twenty minutes until her breathing normalised, and I scolded her — after the episode — for being stupid with her health.

This story is part of our July 2020 Roundup – the best stories of the month!

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Read the July 2020 Roundup!