Albert's Adventure A Conversation with a Mouse "Well, who are you then?" "I've already told you that, boy.  My name is Acola." He was just thinking "A silly little name doesn't tell you much," when he heard the mouse interrupt him: "If you don't like my name then you'd better think of a different one.  I was getting bored of it myself." "How can you get bored of your own name," thought Albert, by now not sure whether he was thinking things for his own benefit, or talking to the mouse, or both.  He had always thought that a name is one of those unchangeable facts of life, like always having puddings at the weekend, or presents on his birthday. "You can get bored of anything if it stays the same long enough, can't you," said the mouse.  "Don't you get bored of history lessons after the  first five minutes?" "Yes, but that's different," thought Albert, wondering how the mouse know about his history lessons. "I've had this name for almost two months now and I'm getting jolly bored of it.  What's strange about that?" "Are you only two months old?".  Albert wondered how he had allowed such a young mouse to boss him around and call him "boy". "Certainly not, boy.  I'll be sixty years old in seventeen years time.  I just like to change my name when I feel like it.  This name was given to me as a Christmas present the last time I was in England." Really, thought Albert, what a strange Christmas present!  He was glad his parents gave him games and books and toys at Christmas, instead of giving him more names. "It's a much more sensible present than those useless things you receive," said the mouse, interrupting him.  "Look at us here, for instance.  Where are all your presents now?  Wherever I go, I've always got my present with me." Albert couldn't argue with that, so he tried something different - "But you just said you were getting bored with your name." "Of course I am, I told you I've had it for three months now." "Well when I get my presents, I don't get bored with them for at least a whole year," he said proudly. "You were just saying that your presents were completely different to a name, so I don't see how that proves anything," cried the mouse.  Albert wasn't sure what this meant, and he would have been glad to know that neither did the mouse. "Anyway I'm getting bored with my name, and that's that! I can't wait until someone gives me a new one." Albert had an idea, which he thought most kind and generous - and he knew that the best thing in life is to be kind and generous.  "I know!  I shall give you a name.  That is, if you'd let me." "You?  How can you think of a name?  It normally takes years of research." What a strange world this mouse must come from, thought Albert, before realising that his thoughts were no doubt being read.  "Of course I can give you a name.  I've got lots of favourite names." "So what are you going to give me?  And will it work?" He didn't really know what it meant for a name not to work, but didn't want to get bogged down in another strange discussion like the last one, so he quickly repeated over and over again one of his favourite names, which he had come across in a poem about cats a few months ago.  "Macavity! Macavity! Macavity!" "What on Earth do you mean," said the mouse. "It's the name I'm giving you." "Well aren't you going to wrap it up?  Everyone knows it's what you do when you give somebody a present." By now, Albert was getting quite used to the strange sort of nonsense the mouse seemed to say all the time, so in his mind he thought of the word Macavity covered in bright golden wrapping paper, tied up with a big red ribbon. "Thank you very much," he heard the mouse thinking.  "It's very kind of you, but I'm afraid I can't accept it.  You see, I'm allergic to the letter v." "Allergic?  I thought people were allergic to things like grass in the summer," thinking of how his father always spent June sneezing in the garden and complaining of hayfever. "That may well be true where you live, but I am allergic to the letter v.  If I had a name like Macavity I'd go around sneezing all day, and probably come out in spots." "Does that mean you can't have anything with the letter v in it?" asked Albert, trying to think of a big word with lots of v's just to show the mouse how clever he was. "I'm afraid so," said the mouse, sadly.  "I once heard of a little mouse who wore a velvet waistcoat, and I'd love to wear one, but I can't because of the v's.  And lots of other things too, like vanillla ice cream, for instance, and vitamins.  And envelopes.  I always have to send my letters without envelopes, and then they never arrive." "What about Macaffity then?  That's got no v's." "Macaffity, Macaffiy, now there's a name", pondered the mouse.  "I'm not sure about the f, though.  I think if you want to give me a really nice present, you might give me a name like Maca5ity.  Now that's what I call a name." "Don't be stupid," thought Albert, "you can't have a name with a number in the middle." "Why ever not," said the argumentative mouse.  "Haven't you ever heard of Henry the Fifth?" "Yes, but you can't have a number right in the middle of a word.  It's against all the rules." "Well I don't know quite what rules you mean, boy.  I suppose the same rules that say that the word "weighty" doesn't exist.  That's got an 8 in the middle, hasn't it?" "But that's cheating.  You ought to call yourself Macafively." "You know perfectly well that would be impossible, on account of my allergy.  I can show you a vet's certificate, if you don't believe me." "Well I'm going to call you Macaffity, and if you want people to call you Maca5ity then you'll just have to talk to yourself."  Albert was losing his patience; really, it was like trying to talk sense into his parents.  And with that their conversation ended, as they both glared at each other.   Copyright © Matthew Edwards 2001