25 Mar 2011
Hestia is..fit for the knackers' yard
I applied it and... it felt a bit tingly. At first I thought that it was Good Tingly, but within about 10 minutes I realised that it was Not Good Tingly and had to rush to the shower to get it off.
Too late, the damage was done. My nethers resembled a pound of uncooked mince and the itch was the sort that made you eye the loo brush with thoughts of blissful scratching (see: Baloo in Jungle Book).
I headed off to the chemists where a gaggle of elderly people were getting their repeat prescriptions - or, let's not stereotype, get their methodone. Either way, I wasn't keen on explaining to the chemist what the problem was under the beady eye of the town's most gossipy old folks.
I spied an assistant marking-down some Christmas bubble-bath. She looked up with a smile as I bore down on her with my increasingly agitated John Wayne walk.
'Can I help you?' she smiled.
In response I dragged her over to the furthest away point in the shop and pointed at the offending article sitting on the shelf. In hushed tones I explained: 'I have used this, (points with shaky finger to product) there (points to nethers) and the itch is driving me insane. Have you got a cream or something?'
The assistant drops her voice to an equally whispered conspiritorial tone: 'Yes, we've got lots of stuff. You might have given yourself thrush...'
'THRUSH?????' I squeaked as loudly as a whisper can manage. 'Nooooo, it's just VERY itchy.'
'Is there discharge?' she asked.
'I haven't looked. It's just ITCHY.'
'Come with me.....' We head to the counter and she quickly unlocks the front of the Big Cabinet and takes out Thrush Cream from the shelf. In front of everyone. They all look at me. I blush and feel duty bound to smack the unspoken thoughts down: 'Dreadful ALLERGY... thanks very much, dear' and fling the £14.00 at her, waddling out of the shop with as much dignity as I could muster. Which wasn't much.
Today, you will be delighted to know, it's all absolutely fine.
Just as well I'm ok though, I had to go visit the doctor to see about getting my gallstones out this morning. He said that it would be in a 'couple of weeks'. So fingers crossed that it's when Tartarus is still at home.
Back home, I explain to Tartarus what the doc said. He is watching Crash.net on the mac. I assume that he has heard something, but not sure what, because I uttered the phrase 'semi-naked' in the middle of a sentence to see if he was listening and he just kept on staring at Valentino Rossi's lap times.
I took off my jacket and idly started to fit pieces into my jigsaw.
I dropped to the floor and lay on my back, the sweat lashing off me. Tartarus came over to see what the fuss was and asked me what I had done.
'You put your back out. Doing a jigsaw?' he said incredulously.
Reader, take me to the knackers' yard and tell him to load up his gun. I'm only fit for making glue
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