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| Sick Bay staff of Owl Towers. Nurse Ratchet, Doctor Roberts and Matron. Doctor Roberts is known for his very inventive and outlandish hats, and is wearing a fine example here. Matron is not wearing any knickers. |
Damn me if I haven't been signed off by my own medical staff - given a note for the Butler and ordered back to reality toot ruddy sweet. First thing this morning I felt Matron's hobnail boot in the small of my back and then there was a slamming of the Sick Bay door. Ruddy cheek of it, and me still weak as a kitten from severe wobbling of the nostrils or percussive farting of the lungs or whatever it was that laid me low. No talk of a medal either I notice. Didn't even get a lolliop.
There was mention of a "high colonic" though which I suppose could be either an Indian mystic on hash or an ex-Army chap livin' at altitude in Tibet. Nanny was waggling a hosepipe at me as she talked so I suppose whoever this "high colonic" is he's from one of the rubber-growin' areas. Upper Michelin or The Dunlop Valley or similar. Either way I said no, no I said, if you're discharging me in this high-handed fashion then I'll not wait around for another damned specialist, you can stick your high colonic up your Arsenal Villa are doing awfully well this year are they not?
Still, feeling groovy again so must away back to the latest manuscriptings with a vengeance.
Miss Q'ertyuiop has been champing at the bit while I've been laid up. Apparently they had to keep her physically restrained because she was champing and chewing at anything else within reach too, not just her bit.
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| Miss Q'ertyuiop is a demon at the entypogrinatrix machine, especially when properly medicated. |
She does a lot of chewing. I have a supply of old slippers shipped in from Blighty once a month, and she shares those with the dogs. Damned splendid entypogrinatrix though, barely a keystroke out of place in the whole of the first draft. Must ask her to use the other rows of keys too sometime soon though - it's ruddy difficult creating an Opus Magnus Magnusson using just the letters qwertyuiop.
Anyway, whole thing's a bit of a mélange of fictional and scientifical notions, but all set on land (otherwise it would be a water mélange I suppose). Subject matter ranges from Moses hoofing up Mount Sinai and meeting the wrong chap, through a typically English plague apocalypse to an account of First [alien] Contact at Buckingham Palace ("The Day the Earth Took Tea"). Publisher keeps sendin' telegrams askin' for progress, all of them I notice sent from South America via the Marconi service. I suppose that means that Interpol are still after him.
Having a spot of difficulty at the moment with Heaven and Hell. Bit of a backlog in the refugee camp in Purgatory (which is just outside of both, a sort of a staging area). Chaps from the embassy doin' their best to sort it all out of course but with folk arriving daily on the packed ocean liners it's ruddy difficult accommodating even the First Class passengers let alone Tourist and Third class. Trouble is, you see, that with fuel prices as they are the heating's been off in Hell for years and Heaven, when you think about who actually wants to gain entry, is pure hell.
Anyway, enough of my problems.
Would just like to extend my grateful thanks to all of those of you who sent the cheery evergreen shrubs and rhododendrons while I was unwell - ruddy garden's covered in them. No idea who arranged them in the borders or even who sent the lovely established trees, but it was very nice of all of you, so thank you. So much more inventive than the usual flower bouquets.
Ditto with the grapeless seeds and the peeler, I shall probably keep him on the permanent staff since he claims to be able to peel anything from a banana to an apple (with appropriate tools of course and sufficient time).
Tootle pip. Deadline to work to and all that sort of thing. Needs a better opening line though.
What do you think of "It was a dark and stormy night ..."?
No?
Oh, OK.
Well what about "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; roughly about a quarter to three on a wet Wednesday in Rawalpindi"?
Now that has possibilities ...
p.s. Also damned busy working on the sorely neglected Owl Wood Publications series. Back to Vintage Photographer duties too now, I suppose. Qwertyuiop my
So sorry I've fallen behind on my reading. I had no idea you were ill. You WERE ill, weren't you? Sometimes it's very difficult to tell what you're actually saying. Also, I find Coryza very distracting whenever I see him. And Matron Sans Knickers is never easy to recover from. So, if you WERE ill (which I'm pretty sure you were), I'm so glad you've been released and are feeling better.
ReplyDeleteRegret to advise have indeed been suffering from a case of Mal de Terre but all brain and lung functions appear to have been re-integrated and are resuming business as usual.
DeleteI shall have to take a deeper breath than usual for a while when preparing to hiss at waiters, but I no longer require safety straps in case of serial sneezing.
My little white cells have triumphed!
I shall miss you, since your unceremonious release. They've transfered me to the intensive care psyche ward. It's been lovely, especially the thorazine drip.
ReplyDeleteMy psyche is no longer under investgation; it has been formally declared as missing, presumed killed in action.
DeleteThe thorazine drip was a delight, who would have thought that the addition of simple ice cubes to the little baggy and a thin slice of lemon could transform it so?
I shall think of you always my love, but most especially during DIY hydro or electro therapy, or whenever I see a running crash team and restraint trolley with a wonky wheel being herded towards a secure unit in the moonlight.
We'll always have Paris. Plaster of Paris, that is.
Nurse.....NURSE......NURSE..........THE SCREENS
DeleteDamn the screens, nurse, just fetch me my monocle.
DeleteThe photo of your purported crack medical team is obviously bogus! There is not a trace of the machine that goes "ping"! I am also suspicious as to how you determined that Matron was not wearing knickers. Nevertheless, I applaud your manly little white cells for doing such a good job of getting you back on your feet again.
ReplyDeleteYou should now have tremendous immunity built up to face the world.
Regret to advise, "Ping" machine was left inside patient during an operation to remove adenoids. Patient, when properly connected to the mains via 13amp plug, now goes "Ding".
DeleteAh, Ms Sparrow, if only it were possible to build up an immunity to the world ...
p.s. Matron's undergarments only came to light when an origamic analysis revealed her uniform cap to be of non-standard size.
My mother had a straw hat like the Doc's, and a frock with a cross like the one on the right. She was a hod-carrier on East End building sites. Good to hear you've pulled through, or been pulled through.
ReplyDeleteHod carrying was a noble profession, I wonder how they do it now when "building" those Barratt starter homes and such? I doubt it's within Elfin Saferty for a chap to hoist more than one brick at a time these days.
DeleteThank you for your kind wishes, the nursing staff were both largely magnificent and magnificently large. I am back to as near-human as I ever get.
At least your typist uses the top row - I had one that would only use the bottom, and "zxcvbnm,./" are very difficult to form into prose. Poetry maybe, but only if it is of a Vogon variety.
ReplyDeleteAh, Vogon poetry. How impoverished the world would be without it. Many's the happy evening I've spent sitting on the edge of my sewer outlet overlooking the corporation tip, watching the sun go down, reciting Vogon poetry to my teddy-bear. I still can't understand why he left me.
DeleteLooks exactly like the well equipped Angolan clinic I was stitched up in after I foolishly allowed my batman to experiment with my hunting crossbow back in '95. Missed my apples and their common stalk by a mere inch; it was so very nearly a golden shot. I call him Bernie the Bolt now but such wit is lost on a native.
ReplyDeleteHe was amazed I took it so well once the other staff had persuaded him out of the jungle in which he was hiding but having worked for multi-nationals, I am used to being shafted.
Glad you are on the road to recovery, Sir Owl. I have an idea how you determined Matron had forgotten he bloomers but shan't say anything. As you know, a hod is as good as a sink to a blind Norse...
One must always forgive staff their foibles, even if they shoot you in yours. We still thrash here at Owl Towers of course, but only for second offences or religious holidays and birthdays.
DeleteMatron's little forgetfulness came to light when she thought she was alone, and began practising her instrumentless rendition of Thus sprach Zarathustra for euphonium, French horn and trombone. The echo just didn't sound as it ordinarily should, even in a tiled room.
BTW, I always thought a dishonorable discharge was a self induced one but that's catholics for you.
DeleteGiven your dire illness I crated up a live binturong which I ensnared in the southern forests of Thailand. Said binturong is now being shipped to Owl Wood Towers where he will be your constant furry companion. Use him as a rug, towel or quilt and feed him regularly. He is an omivore and his pet name is Bosanquet as he reminded me of that caddish old newsreader.
ReplyDeleteThankee kindly Sir, I shall train him to ride on my shoulders and point out likely peasants when I'm ridin' to hounds. With whiskers such as those I'm certain that he'll take to a handlebar and monocle with aplomb.
DeleteAs some people used to begin in letters, (those devices you and I might recall)..."Dear Blogs, I hope you are well"... Dear Owl, I hope you ARE well. I did not know, apart from your obvious case of madness, that you were not in the rouge. But I am much relieved to discover that whatever it was that afflicted you has now receded, and you are once again as whole and as right as you ever will be, so that we can continue to enjoy reading of life at Owl Towels. I recommend Horlicks; it's usually a large part of my daily life, or at least what the great unwashed serve as an excuse for how they execute orders.
ReplyDeleteThankee kind Sir, I am much improved indeed and free now from all but the last traces of bodily dysfunction. We are stood down from "Awoogha - Condition Taupe" and returning to "Awoogah - Condition Tickled Pink".
DeleteAt these times of recuperation I like to have myself wheeled into position by an upstairs window and then left in peace with a warm huntin' rifle and a hot cup of vegetable bouillon.
You were ill? I would say you sound feverish and delirious, but since you sound the same when you're healthy that may be a faulty diagnosis. Don't go to Rawalpindi, it's got a lot more dangerous since The Jewel in the Crown. The colonic remedy might be worth a try, though.
ReplyDeleteDamn me, Sir, if I haven't just shed a small tear at your kind words. I was indeed a touch under the weather but as you say, I think it best to keep the quack-wallahs guessin' by presentin' as few symptoms as possible.
DeleteMatron seems to have added some sort of funnel and a bucket of steaming goat's milk to the hosepipe in re the high colonic equation, so I think I'll lock the door to the old sleeping quarters this evening. Might remember to block up the chimney too. Damned woman's on some sort of mission.