Last Monday evening I loaded my parents into the car and headed off to the local private hospital so Mum could see the consultant about having a new hip. Great system, this hospital is carrying out the overspill from the NHS list and in no way actually looks like a hospital. We arrived in the dark and fumbled our way through the poorly lit car park which was strewn with pot holes and slippery drain covers, but safely made it through the doors into an empty waiting area. Excellent, plenty of seating space and it was really hot which was useful in thawing out my now corpse-like fingers and bringing some normal colour back to them. Mum had the wrong glasses on for completing the registration form so the task fell to me................all was going well until I spotted the name of the consultant. He is the same French chap I saw five years ago who had a less than ideal command of English and kept passing me a translation book and asking “How you zay eeeeen Eeeenglish?” Hmm, ok then, this could be interesting. Never mind, off she hobbled into the room (phrase book in hand) and emerged later on with an admission date for around four weeks time to “’av ze new heeep feeeted”. Hopefully the stay in hospital will only be around four days and be followed by walking with a stick for seven weeks (shouldn’t pose a problem as she has a dozen broomsticks lined up indoors) then off to London to take part in the relay race in the Olympics. Prior to her stay I am sourcing a crash course for her in basic French skills to aid communication between patient and surgeon.
Last time Mum had surgery they couldn’t knock her out..............after several goes and frustrated staff saying “You must be sleepy now” off she went into slumber land. On waking, she was confused to discover the hernia she had gone in to have removed was still part of her person. Never mind, the surgeon visited next morning to check on her progress with a posse of medical students tailing him. He told her they had not found a hernia and asked who had told her there was one. “You did” replied my Mum with a wry smile. Apparently the surgeon beat a hasty retreat from the foot of her bed with a line of students in his wake trying to stifle their laughter!
Great day over the past weekend.........I went to watch an under 12’s rugby tournament that my friends son was playing in. His team won the whole event and were presented with a cup at the Northampton Saints home game that afternoon. However, the weather left a lot to be desired and was so wet by the semi-final round that I ended up with two pairs of soaking wet socks inside soaking wet walking boots and had to remain this way all afternoon due to then going to watch the Saints game. Ironically the sun came out for the afternoon followed by more hail and a rainbow. All that was missing was a plague of locusts. On shopping at the club kiosk I delved into my backpack for funds only to find a puddle at the bottom of the bag.............absolutely everything was soaked in my purse and I handed the cashier two limp (and near to disintegration) notes. He was last seen putting them on the heater to dry out as I scooted off to find my seat in the ground!
Dream of the week..............I was supposed to be going to see a pantomime but had to collect the tickets from someone two minutes away on foot. On my way there I was running through Debenhams glass and china department and no matter how fast I ran I wasn’t getting anywhere. I managed to get out of the building and found myself on the streets of Bruges (are you keeping up here?). Off I went again trying to get to the tickets but ended up having to dodge armed police who were carrying out a standoff with some fool holed up in a house. Eventually I wound up in a village hall where the playgroup session had just been cancelled due to all the lights going off. I woke up at this point.................never did get those tickets. Again I have no idea what this means but all answers on a postcard will be considered.
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