You have so cheered me up with your tales of drunken exchanges with the head teacher and such like, I’d love to tell you that I have never made such a dreadful faux part, but do remember trying to get myself out of a rather awkward situation with the previous headmistress where I was suggesting that a wonderful way to make great hords of cash for the school would be to shake a bucket at the largest gathering of the Slinfold parents ever known to man (the pub on a Friday). From the rim of her specs she cast a dark shadow over me and said, “We are a church of England school Mrs Falize and couldn’t possibly take any money raised in a “public house.” It was at this point that my valiant friend (whose bloody idea it was to raise money for the PTA at the piss up in the first place), said with her just perfect Yorkshire accent, “Didn’t Jesus turn water into wine?……….At some point……….. just sayin………..” The pauses indicate the density of the glare that she got as her line of questioning went on. We raised a lot of money that night for the scouts.
Anyway my lovelie, I am extremely jealous of your escape from our fine land, for I have been put on bed rest after a little op down at one of the loveliest hospitals in our land. I set out on Monday morning, an utter bag of nerves, absolutely determined to endear myself to all the hospital staff so that they would think I was no trouble at all. In the reception suite (ie RIGHT at the beginning of the process), I was asked to give a wee sample to check that I wasn’t, “with child,” (slightly amusing considering the nature of the op), so ok I can do this, minimum fuss, no mess. Wee in cup, put cup on bin lid, wash hands, dry hands, put foot on handle at base of bin to open bin lid…………….. cup full of evidence fired quite immaculately all over loo wall…………….. feck! Ok, start again, new cup, tiny last drop of wee that can be found, in cup, cup on very different, far more appropriate surface, pull orange cord to flush loo, every alarm in reception suite going off, every member of staff alerted, all emergency staff assuming I have collapsed and am unconscious. I emerge, small cup of wee, red faced and not exactly having achieved my goal……..
Post op, straight into a wonderful ward with some amazing nurses and health assistants. All have been told about my wee cup incident, it’s amazing how news like that travels so fast.
So onto making some friends on the wards, it always makes time pass more quickly if you have people to talk to. My first victim was a lovely lady named Alice who, very young, told me she had basically gone through the same procedure as I had (I am a tad older than she is ) which was a hysterectomy. She was understandably a littIe tearful so I thought I’d cheer her up by asking about her family. She has two little boys. I then proceeded to ask her if she’d like anymore children. It’s amazing how often Ed spends time with me with his head in his hands, I’ve often thought to talk to him about his head problem but I think I may just have got to the bottom of it right there, in my medical hour of need……..
I left the hospital to a lot of waving and whooping from the staff. I thought this was really sweet, but for some reason Ed kept mouthing what looked like, “Really sorry, really really sorry.” But I can’t be sure. Anyway, am on the mend now with a long list of things I can’t do for about a year and a half, all seem to be housework thingies which is odd because even though I did contribute generously to the recovery physio’s personal fund, he wrote the list himself, totally unaided………….. here’s to the next 18 months of wine, song and utter mayhem! Come home soon Lucy!