Those of a delicate...

disposition best look away 

NOW!

Just recently I have been taking an elderly

neighbour to hospital to have a monthly

 eye injection.

I escort him to the clinic, then I'm at 'large'

in the hospital, content to while away an hour or two,

having a coffee, reading my book and generally

watching the world go by.

My first port of call usually is the restaurant,

where I am sometimes tempted to have

a cheese scone with my mug of tea.

This time my itinerary varied;

thank goodness it did,

 is all I've got to say.

The loo in the hospital had a mirror on the door...

'Who's the fat friend that has sneaked

into the lavatory with you today Linda?'

'Bloody hell it's ME!'

As I adjusted my dress, I couldn't take my eyes off

just how things have got out of hand.

You, I'm sure have heard of metal fatigue,

have you heard of brassiere and knicker fatigue?

I staggered out, walked up to the counter and had a full blown

conversation in my head about the merits of cheese scones.

I looked at the time...

 9.25am and said to myself... 

'If you're at home do you have anything to eat during the morning?'

'Of course I don't, you daft tart, what sort of conversation is this?'

I chose a mug of tea and went and sat down.

The book had lost its appeal as my mind kept turning over...

'How the flying figrolls has this been allowed to happen?'

I wandered out of the cafe, my consolate had never felt more

dis.

My usual sitting in the foyer had somehow lost its appeal...

'How have they got themselves into that state?' smugly

used to flit through my mind.

NOT ANY FRIGGING MORE!

I slunk out of the main entrance,

limbo dancing on the linoleum, in the hope 

me being low to the ground, nobody would see me. 

I marched around the hospital perimeter,

grump in every step, overlaid with a sprinkle

of self-pity.

By the time I wandered back, my lovely man

was ready for our trip home.

We had talked at great length about

his wife not wanting to take any more pain killers

for the cancer that was slowly eating its way

through her body.

'I'll come in and sort her out!'

As you might of guessed, I do tend to call

a spade a ruddy great shovel.

And she always says I'm a tonic.

They are both from the North East

and they get my straight-talking...

(luckily!)

In I swept, as only a Challenger tank can.

Alright this isn't probably a Challenger tank!
I just wanted you to get the feel of my MO!

And challenge her I did.

We had a good laugh and joke and 
the main thrust of my 'gentle'
attack hit the target.

As I drove away,
my thoughts turned to how thin she was,
and what a spoilt self-indulgent lump I am.