Monday, 1 March 2010

Couldbestreamofconsciousness

It's all quickquickspeed round here.

Maybe in blur I require list of day's events. And possibly short sentencing. (Not of prison variety. Although possible.)

1. Grit has a scanner shoved up her doodah. You don't believe that is possible do you? It is a miracle of modern science. I can say the NHS is very efficient. The nurse did not tut once when Grit gripped the door frame on the way into the X-Ray suite.

Terrified is an understatement. Simply being near a door labelled with the signature of Certain Death by Spooky Invisible Forces gives me the wibbles. And then there is the joy of meeting Dr Crippen and his hideous scanner shaped like a gear stick. It is horrible and he crunches that thing about like he is rally driving a beat up old VW Polo and the gear stick is about to come off in his hand. Indeed, no-one will ever shift gear again in my vicinity without me crossing my legs, I can tell you.

2. Aunty Dee is coming to stay for her annual sleepover in the mouse bed of misery. This requires preparation. And this year I will be clever. I will tell her that we have no mice and she has false consciousness about the scratching noise. What was that Aunty Dee? Can't hear it myself. Must be your imagination. No mice whatsoever. None. None that I need to bludgeon to death with a waste bin at midnight and run from the house screaming like last time, dearest Aunty Dee.

Anyway, in preparation for her arrival, today intermittently finds me in full house fumigation mode. I have attacked two kitchen surfaces with chemical weapons. They are looking good. For all of five minutes anyhow, until the griblets come home and cover them in mud, bits of cut up paper, and foam.

3. I must look beautiful and polished and upholstered. I have 24 hours. Aunty Dee is coming to child mind because shortly I must step into Dig's world and try not to be gutter while eating shithot dinner with people who lead Britain and other upper knobs. For this, I require shoes. Three charity shops later and I have a pair of Clarks pointy toes. In black.

4. I am not with children today. You can tell. I achieve so much (see points 1,2,3). While I am productive, children go into woods and build raft. I would provide a photograph of that, but somehow Dig's hard disk went crunchycrunchywhirrdie and this is implicated in no photos for grit's day.

That is all. But I need to know what happened. And when. Not sure why.

6 comments:

sharon said...

Having no 'lady bits' left I am spared routine medical explorations but I do sympathise with you ;-)

Hope you have a lovely evening with Dig and the Bigwigs and that Aunty Dee finds no sign of rodent activity while you are out.

Big mamma frog said...

God it's bad enough when the nurse says 'relax' while holding the salad tongs of doom in one hand...and you can't because you know exactly where those metal creatures are going.

Sympathy vibes being sent your way.

kellyi said...

You weren't at the shell springboard were you?

(For the fancy pants dinner, not the lady's thing - that would be too awful.)

Rachel M. said...

I hate the doctor joy stick! I had to endure it for the 2 or 3 appointments with ultrasounds. Thankfully baby is big enough now that they can just roam the joy stick over my tummy!

Have fun at fancy pants dinner and don't drink too much or you'll find yourself babbling incoherently about the injustice of Britain's educations system. :)

Minnie said...

Ooohh! I remember those...you come out walking like John Wayne. Happy Days! lol

Pointy shoes. Ow!

Grit said...

thank you sharon! i'm not sure that's quite the right thing to say, esp. re ladybits but you know what i mean x

you are right big mamma frog; and the way those salad tongs have a little grabber at the end shudderrrr

nah, they forgot to send my invite, kelly. i am possibly too upmarket for them.

rachel, i may only go on the proviso that i can babble.

minnie! but cute little pointy shoes are wonderful! they are lovelylovelylovely. i love them.