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Me and Trina do not have sex
One of my current assignments is serving fattening, unhealthy food to fat, unhealthy people, in a works canteen. After my shift, I am turning my scooter on at the works gate, where they all go to smoke. "Right goodnight then," I say to Ten Ton Teddy, whom I served earlier. He interrupts rolling his cigarette to say "have fun on your illegal scooter." "Yeah!" I say, laughing.
Wish I'd had the presence of mind to say "well, they don't suit everyone. You've got to be under a certain weight to ride them for a start."
To Lancaster, to wave my eldest off to Moscow, where she's got a job as a English assistant in the State system there. My damaged leg moans all weekend and I spend money on taxis to avoid the ten-minute walk to Kirsty's house.
I have a couple of days with Trina on her narrowboat and another overnight at her house. Our years-long reconciliation is complete, and I have a happy, drunken, sexless time with her. One morning, I am making an omelette for our breakfast. "I think you're wonderful," she says, wrapping her arms about me.
On Trina's urging, I give in to the irritating limitations of my injury and "go" to the doctor, by filling in an online form. Two hours later I am booked in for an X-ray in Bristol, as they want to eliminate a fracture.
Outside the hospital, dozen of people with visible and invisible disabilities are puffing away under no smoking signs. In radiology, I am met by a rangy African man who shines the sinister rays through my groin. I am embarrassed about my unimpressive credentials showing up on the photograph.
I am informed later that there is no fracture, but there's muscle damage and a bit of arthritis in my hip. On the doctor's advice, I buy an arthritis kit from B&M Bargains.
I go to buy some coffee. The young man in the shop describes the flavour as "funky". I am tempted to say that there is a now obsolete sense of that word which refers to the smell of a vulva, but instead I proffer a tenner. I am told I have to pay by card. "Amazing," he says.
Outside the shop, a homeless beggar says of my scooter, "that's cool that." I straighten up with pride and go off down the road with perhaps exaggerated acceleration.
10 comments
After two weeks I am still waiting for my knee X ray result - but I’m thinking I may need the arthritis kit too.
That Trina - she’ll never give up trying to get into your pants.
Sx
That second to last paragraph made me laugh out loud… funky innit?
and the I-mac broke his arm for the third time playing the football on another horrible tackle by a defender he embarrassed… he knew it right away… thinking the boy might want to consider med school as he’s getting quite good at diagnosing himself… or clown school so he learns how to fall ;)
Oh dear, three times! His arm must be a bit crooked by now. But of a caddish thing for the defender to do. Hope ihell be back in combat soon!
Should have x-rayed your head, matey.
Thin pickings there.
Good Morning, Looby! i’m back out and about again, and catching up - as always, your adventures leave me astonished! And your writing? Engaging and full of visuals. i’m heartbroken about the scooters - here in my medium sized town, unlocked scooters, bicycles, or even pogo sticks will get nicked in the blink of an eye. The vultures are everywhere…
Hope to stay more connected as we move into autumn here. My summer was busy with all sorts of new things for me. Gardens? Who am i?
Yes, it’s a bit of a drag having to constantly think everyone a potential nicker.
It sounds very hot work over there, but it looks lovely!
Yo Loobs,
Long time, innit. All sorts have been and are in my life - most of it sunny and safe - woot! Glad to hear you’re still scooting around; shame arthur itis has moved in - mine’s a foul guest who won’t easily be ignored!
Was this you? https://news.sky.com/story/drunk-e-scooter-rider-tries-to-use-birminghams-a38m-motorway-to-get-home-12392269
;-P
Well hello! It’s a pleasure to see you letter my pages again. Are you back in the better half of England?
I am, except when my mount is being admired by homeless men outside Tesco, a sedate scooterist who wishes to remain unseen by vehicles that might trouble me, including police cars.
And you are welcome to share my cod liver oil at any time.
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Two weeks? That’s a very long wait. Mine came through by the end of the day. Have they forgotten about you? Hope it’s good news when eventually arrives.