Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Saturday, 29 September 2012
The Family Business
I am going to try hard to be positive in this post, but - as the old saying goes - 'a burden shared is ... er... well, lighter'.
I went downstairs to collect the mail this morning and found the hairdresser from downstairs coming upstairs with it and, saying that she was glad that she had bumped into me, began complaining about the delicious smell of freshly prepared food from the new delicatessen which has opened next door, saying that it filled the stairwell.
Obviously angling for some moral support with her imminent complaint against the new business, she asked if I had noticed it. I said that I had not, but this was probably because of the unbelievably powerful stink of hair-products emanating from her establishment which we can even smell upstairs in our compact but adorable city apartment, and which drown out everything else. She said that her stink was only 'perfume' and I said 'so what?'.
In as good a humoured way as I could muster, I too took advantage of our chance meeting by asking her to stop stealing all the free local magazines that come through the letter box every week, because I have a couple of friends who write columns for them, and wouldn't mind reading them every now and then, even if they are an unrelenting outpouring of inane shite. Three come through the letterbox, and she - if I don't get there first - takes all of them.
There was one envelope addressed to me, and it contained a cheque from the auction house for £52 from the sale of a pair of candlesticks I had paid £130 for about a month ago. I didn't get where I am today by having a good head for business.
I have a very strange sort of headache today which is sitting doggedly just behind my right eyeball, and I blame it directly on my grand-daughter.
I was sitting in the pub garden with her last night and was - unusually for me, honest - having a bit of a moan about my life in general. I was observing how things all seem to go wrong at once, rather than interspersing themselves evenly throughout the year in a manageable fashion, and her advice to me was to 'go home and roll myself a good, stiff, hash reefer' and get a good night's sleep.
Well, I did the first bit, but the second bit elluded me and I woke up with the lop-sided headache.
I think it is tomorrow looming over me - that and being completely broke - which is casting a shadow over this sunny weekend. Tomorrow I am driving off to pick up my niece and visit my sister who is in hospital about 100 miles away and hanging onto life with the help of a cocktail of medication which is precariously balanced to keep her heart beating (even if it is at 120 beats per minute) at the same time as retaining as much fluid in her body as will not drown her in her own bed from the inside out.
My sister is over five feet ten inches tall, but now weighs 6 stone (that's 84 pounds for anyone who does not know what a 'stone' is).
I know that all things must change, but when you are in the middle of a tunnel, it's difficult to see the light at the other end sometimes.