If Granny is already on number 94 of ‘100 complaints to have before you die’, it has just dawned on me that she has just over a week to live. Unless she gets struck dumb and can’t moan about things any more……
Bet she’d learn bloody sign language………….Then she’d get a ‘moan overdraft’. We could be at this forever……..
Granny is currently suffering no 94 of ‘100 complaints to have before you die’. She has a chesty cold. She thinks it’s dengue fever or summat. She says she has been up all night, piddling and coughing (not necessarily at the same time, but that’s what Tena Lady are for). She wants to see the doctor. She’s feeling very sorry for herself. She is grotting all over the place, sharing her germs with anyone within a two mile radius. She doesn’t know what it means to put her hand over her mouth. Obviously both elbows are broke…………
Mother ain’t impressed. She’s reached the point where Granny actually has to be within 30 minutes of dying before she will feel any sympathy. Talk about the boy who cried wolf. What about the old age pensioner who has a pack of them………
Kenneth Clarke has announced today that abuse of vulnerable adults will carry a 10 year prison sentence. Mother is weighing up whether the peace and quiet is worth the loss of liberty……………….
Mother had a phone call last night from a woman who’d had a leg dressing done by nurses earlier in the evening. Only she said they’d dressed the wrong leg. You’d think she would have said that at the time. Anyway, she wanted a nurse to go out and dress the correct leg this time. It’s fortunate for her that no lasting damage was done. If she’d had the wrong leg cut off, she’d have been hopping mad……………….And also been forced to carve out a career playing Long John Silver in pantomime.
Anyway, let’s look on the bright side. She could have lived in Leeds…………..
Somebody rang Mother’s office over the weekend because she was in pain. She was advised to ring the local GP co-operative. ‘What are they going to do?’ asked the woman. ‘I’m in Leeds’…….
That visit would have been one hell of a round trip. Mother’s boss would have had a stroke on the spot when she saw the mileage claim……..
Some people are having problems getting their money out of Nat West banks. If ever there was an argument for keeping your money under the mattress, this is it…….
Or you could start a barter system. Mother could swap a plaster for a cabbage. It would be a bit useless as she doesn’t actually like cabbage, but I’m sure the principle is sound.
Wonder what she’d have to do to get me a year’s supply of cat food………….
Day Eight in the ginger cat’s yard. Still no ratses. Mother is pleased.
She is also currently delighting in a new thing she has got for her iPod. It is a complete edition of the latest National Drug Formulary – all 1104 pages of it. This thing retails for £35 on Amazon, and you can get it for nowt by going through what’s called an ‘Athens’ account. Trust the NHS to ally itself to an organisation named after the capital of a bankrupt country. That’s the blind leading the blind if you ask me……………The person who does the Greek accounts must be the same person who worked out how many beds the new hospital needed cus there’s one hell of a shortfall. Let’s send patients to Germany………..see if they’ll bail us out as well!
Also in today’s news, the Government are planning to get rid of GCSEs for something more difficult. Good job too. Have always said that getting a qualification for knowing your own name should be outlawed.
Docs have been on strike today. Anybody noticed?…….
Mother is fed up with those toilet roll dispensers which seem to have 100 miles of paper on them, but won’t let anybody use it. You sit there for what seems likes hours at a time searching for the end of the roll to no avail. By the time you do find the bit that you need, you have air dried, and are faced with the dilemma of leaving it easy for the person who follows you in or hiding the end again. Depends how peevish you are feeling really…..
Makes Mother long for the days of Izal paper, which was neither use nor ornament, but at least you knew where you were with it. And you could have a bit of a party if you remembered to take a comb in there with you. Disco music played on an improvised kazoo.
Of course, when you’re a cat, you don’t need bog paper – that’s what your tongue’s for……..