Have been missing for a bit, her indoors was too knackered to be my secretary.
Auntie has gone on her holiday. Day being the most important word here. She’s gone for one day, leaving Marby and Snoopy to fend for themselves (well not quite, she has a house sitter). At least the weather’s nice.
Yesterday Mother went on something called Basic Life Support training. This is summat she’s pretty good at, having been around the nursing block a few times. This involves jumping up and down on a dummy (this one was called Bob), and demonstrates one of the few times when a nurse is officially allowed to beat up a patient. Not that the patient would notice, being very, very nearly, almost but not quite dead.
Personally, I would stop using the dummies for practice, get a few NHS managers to lie down and let staff beat the c**p out of them. As long as it was done at 120 beats per minute and at a depth of 5-6 centimetres it should be OK.
Great stress reliever. They can forget the mouth-to-mouth though………………..
The downstairs toilet has been hissing and spitting. The man has come to repair it today and says that it may be because the top of the cistern has moved. Mother is now amazed because for once in her life, the actual answer to a problem was to hit the offending article. This long held female bastion of DIY and repair would have worked in this case. I hope that she doesn’t use this approach when the telly goes wrong or we’ll have a hole in it (and it still won’t work) ……..
Mother is upset because Nick Clegg (our goldfish) has gone to the great fish bowl in the sky, leaving David Cameron (our other big fat fish) all alone to rule the kingdom of Fish Tank. It would appear that our little coalition hasn’t managed to outlive the real thing. Nick had a very tasteful service before he was wrapped in tissue, sealed in a plastic coffin (an old cottage cheese tub) and ceremoniously placed in the bin. Gone are the days of flushing Goldie down the toilet for his mortal remains to be chewed upon by some passing rodent. No, Nick is off to landfill. RIP old buddy………………
It would appear that I am off to the vets again soon for a check up. Her indoors thinks she can fool me by whispering or spelling out V E T every time the topic requires a mention. She’ll be trying sign language next. It would also seem that I may have a companion on my trip – Isis has been in the wars and has an abscess. Being a homeless little waif, he needs someone to look out for him; however his treatment is dependent on whether Mum and Auntie can catch him first.
My life has been a living hell since Compare the Meerkat. People are following me around shouting ‘seemples’. I feel that it is unfair to characterise all Russian people in this way, we still haven’t got over the rumour that we sit around all day drinking Vodka. Please help me to get over this.
Yours ever hopefully
Turn the telly off and invest in a pair of earplugs.
Mother has taken to eating more fruit. I am worried that her current consumption of bananas will result in her attempting to swing from trees. The fridge is also full of salad stuff. I wonder if we are getting a rabbit?
I am worried that I may be made redundant from the NHS. How I am going to cope without being disgruntled, overworked and abused every day? What on earth will I find to do??
Please help me to put this terrible event into some degree of perspective
With warmest regards
I understand why you may be concerned about your future, however do not fret. I have been informed that you are especially good at using a drill, and I am sure that this skill will always be in demand. If the lack of abuse bothers you, I am sure that we can persuade someone to shout obscenities at you while you renovate the bathroom.
In any spare time, may I suggest that you learn another language? One never knows when this may come in useful.
As for perspective, think of the money…………….
Many of you out there have been asking why we won’t let NHS Managers on the Ark when the time comes. It’s because:
We would really like to be able to agree on a direction to take
If it is the wrong direction, we don’t want to keep coming back to it time and time again to see if it really will work
We don’t want to have to drown in a sea of paperwork
We will only have 40 days for the trip. Ever known anything in the NHS to move that quick?……
This exclusion has now been amended to include politicians who have anything at all to do with NHS reforms
I have to keep getting up in the night for a pee and I feel like I’m going to die. What should I do?
Yours in the hope that you will help to resolve all my long term aches and pains
Rest assured that this is not terminal. I would suggest that you refrain from getting up in the night to make yourself a drink. What goes in must come out. With regard to your other problems I feel that I am woefully unqualified for the task of sorting you out. I am only a cat. There is a limit to the miracles that even we get to perform…..
Got a problem? Need good, common sense advice? Contact Agony Archie via this website……
Well it’s absolutely piddling down here and they dare say that there’s a drought. I am collecting wood to build an ark. I want to be able to save the world when the end comes and am changing my name to Noah. As Mother is not allowed within two feet of a drill in case she skewers her hand, we are going to get Uncle to do any drilling. That secures him a free spot on the boat. Auntie J is going to make enough cake to last us until it stops raining, Snoopy and Marby are going to make the curtains if they can remember where they put the sewing machine.
Mother is taking names for this great adventure. NHS Managers need not apply. Hope they can swim………………….