 |
| Crushed Raspberry Bed Linen |
I'm no iron lady as anyone who's read some
of these posts will know, but today I needed to iron a sheet, it
being a lovely sunny day with the linen on the line; who'd have ever thought we'd be celebrating hanging the washing out to dry. Ironing a sheet is a job to be
got over quickly. I found the equipment in Cost Centre #1's penthouse, 'I'll
have this done in no time,' I say, and look around for a glass of water to top up the iron. Half way through the job, I get a sickly strawberry sherbet
pong, then the iron starts to get sticky and brown bubbly caramel dribbles forth.
Yikes, bloody flavoured water, just think what it's doing to your insides
CC #1!
The sheet smells of cheap bubblegum, I've
heard of fruit flavoured condoms, but sticky candy floss sheets - I don't think they'll catch on.
And the reason I haven't got around to
writing a post all week is literary; literally, reading a book for review,
which I'll end up half reviewing here if I'm not careful, whereas it can be
read soon in the Sindo. I'm also continuing to axe thousands of words to fit my
novel into competition criteria. I'm saving them to put somewhere else, after
the weeks of solitude it took to write them in the first place.
The review and editing were supposed to
be done last weekend when I went for a quiet retreat to my friend in Wicklow.
We shall call her Victoria, not after Beckham, or even Secret, but Grayson,
from Revenge, only because she's looks a bit like Madeleine Stowe and has the
figure to go with it. Victoria's husband, Baron von Richter Scale was checking
out pistons in some romantic Spanish location with his fellow petrol heads.
There was nothing for it but to stay in with her and cook, gossip, read,
gossip, sleep, gossip and er, drink a bottle or six of wine. And even though
I've a cat phobia, I managed to relax enough not to squeal in fright at the
thought of her creature touching me.
Ah yes, the silence, the bird song, the
distance, a great retreat, but still the book review isn't finished. And on Sunday afternoon we have to curtail
the rural idyll to visit our friend who's displaying her new baby furniture at
the Pregnancy and Baby Fair. As you can imagine, Victoria and I are far from
interested in anything that might be purveyed but it's important to support our
friend. We arrive an hour before it ends and take a quick scoot around the
stands looking for her. We pass the Mount Carmel Hospital stand and a myopic
woman hands us both a leaflet and asks us to think of them when we're having our
next child. At least she didn't presume we were pregnant. Victoria was
horrified, I said we should be flattered - Non?
Next day I'm in hospital after my GP
suggested I get the knee and thumb further checked. The only way to bear the
waiting situation was to bring the book and enjoy the peace. It amazes me that
90% of patients who complain about the waiting in A&E, don't bring anything to pass the time. I hardly read a few pages when the nurse
called me, then I settled in for another hour only the doctor called me within
10 minutes, then I thought maybe a few more pages only the radiographer called
me. OK I had to wait a bit on a trolley to get all the results, but it was warm
and comfortable.
A young girl, maybe late teens, sat nearby
crying. She was wearing a fetching white sort of skater dress, ie, short and
floaty, tanned limbs, candy floss nails,
french pedicure, I noticed this as she wasn't wearing any shoes. Her arm
was in a sling. She sobbed so much I tried to think of something to comfort
her, but when I looked again she was absorbed in her phone. Her doctor listed a few things off
to my doctor, words like Student Races, fall, alcohol. I conjured up images of
the girl running in a sack race or maybe an egg and spoon race with a cocktail
bar at the finish line.
My thumb was strapped into a velcro thing
and I was told I should have been on crutches for the last three weeks, but it
was too late now, the tear was mending, they said, just keep it rested. When I got home I told CCN#2 about the
girl and asked if there were some student races in UCD today?
'No, mom they were in Leopardstown, horses,
student tickets, er hello?'
'Oh, that explains the girls friends in the
waiting area, all dressed up with fascinators.'
'What are fascinators?' he sniffs
'Ah, hello, look it up.'
I’m not one
for conspiracy theories. But the copy of Alan Shatter’s book, Laura, a story you’ll never forget, was
supposed to be shipped on Wednesday according to the ever efficient Amazon.com,
only I got an email yesterday from the bookseller to say they were out of
stock, promptly followed by a refund email. What can I say, were they being
greedy and thought they’d make a hundred dollars more? It went up from 1 cent in the
UK last week to thirty dollars (what I paid) as of today it’s 165 pounds and, I
kid you not, three copies are 999 dollars each in USA.
