The Rats
I've just remembered about my father's midnight oratories.

He did his national service in the Air Force. He wanted to join the Navy, but got the RAF instead. The forces being what they were, he ended up a radio operator on an air-sea rescue launch at Holyhead.

One of the less appetizing jobs they did was pull corpses out of the sea. My Dad had the misfortune to grab one by the hand, only to have the whole arm come off. This started the nightmares about the rats, with him waking up screaming. Fortunately, they subsided after a few years, but that didn't stop him shouting other stuff.

One notable night, I was awoken by a scream "Get in here, there's burglars!" I leapt out of bed -pausing only to pull my t-shirt down to cover the old wedding tackle - grabbed a cricket bat and legged it across the landing to my parent's bedroom, kicked the door open and leapt through, fully prepared to deal death to the interloper.

Only there wasn't an interloper. There was just my mother, looking puzzled, the dog, looking even more puzzled, and my father, fast asleep.

And my t-shirt had slipped.

(edited down from This)
( Stevedix http://www.stevedix.de/blog, Fri 24 Aug 2007, 14:24, Reply)