Life is sometimes difficult to bear.... see why.

Easy As Falling Down the Stairs.
by: usual suspect.
part: (12+12+12+12+12+12+12+12+12+12+12+12) Gross innit?

I awoke just before John Humphrys began to dissect the leader of the opposition on the radio. Normally I would stop and listen for such an interview to finish, it was about the only bloodsport to which I would subscribe, the culling of politicians.

Instead I was in the shower before Humphrys had drawn much of Dave the Chamaeleon's blood, getting myself tidied up to go and talk to Bristol Uni. I had to liaise with their rodent people and also get agreement to use their facilities when I needed them, like library real and online, although Portsmouth had a reasonable one Bristol was an older possibly more prestigious establishment. Even one of Tony Blair's sons went there.

I dressed in my pinstripe suit, well I might as well get some use out of it before it dated or the moths had it (it's viscose ha ha), together with a black lacy, long sleeved top. I wore my heels with black stay up stockings. I then quickly made some sandwiches for my father, and put in a new lot of breadmix.

I'd just finished my makeup and was combing my hair when the door bell rang. It was not quite nine o'clock. Who the hell was that, the postman?

I scrambled down the stairs in my heels and opened the door. It was a delivery from one of those courier vans, you know, white variety knock cyclists off their bikes, cut up motorists - I'm not being stereotypical here am I? Diddums!

"Lady Catherine Stane something or other?"

"Stain remover, yes that's me." I was going to kill Simon one of these days! I know I'll build my own guillotine!

"Sign here please." He handed me somesort of handheld device and a stylus. I signed it Minnie Mouse. He handed me a package.

Despite the fact I should be getting my little blue girlymobile out of the garage, I was curious about what was in the package. It could only be from Simon.

I took it into the kitchen and slit the packing tape on the box with the kitchen scissors. Opening it, inside I found a large Paddington bear, it was easily two foot tall. There was a note with it - 'Next time you go for a roll in the grass with a two foot teddy, take me! Love Paddington xxx.'

I nearly fell over laughing, and decided he could come out in the car with me. The traffic was abysmal and the parking at the university, worse. Thank goodness I hadn't taken the larger car, I'd never have managed to get it in. As it was I had an hour, that was all.

I rushed in and was guided to the people I needed to see. I advised them I was on limited parking, so the coffee and preliminaries were dispensed with and we got down to the nitty gritty.

I wanted someone to take on board some of the other mammal groups, and finally managed to get them to agree to collate the Sciuridae, that's squirrels to the uninitiated, he finally agreed. Maybe I should go for the cleavage next time, I mean showing mine, it seems to make men more amenable, although I was desperately trying to avoid sexual cliches. You know, pretty woman =low intelligence = bimbo. Rubbish, tell that to Condominium Rice or whatever she's called, you know the US secretary of state, or Meryl Streep, even good ol' Hillary with two LLs, its the name of a semester at Oxford, but Bill would know that, remember in his smoking but not inhaling days, or was that Monica?

Anyway, my femme fatale managed to get what I wanted, but I suspect he might have been gay or something, he was just so into Sciurus vulgaris, and he simply hated S. carolinensus. Okay, so I had to agree that red squiggles are cuter then grey imports. But did he have to quote me the history of their introduction?

I managed to sort out the matter of access to their facilities, Agnew had written to someone there I only had to pop in and get a visitor's card, so that was done. I dashed out to the car, to find Paddington involved in a life and death struggle with a traffic warden, beating her to death with a marmalade sandwich. Actually I was lying, although you nearly believed me, admit it. He was merely chatting her up and about to flash her by opening his duffle coat. He looked so disconsolate when I pointed out he didn't have any dangly bits, although I did offer to sell him mine. At the rate they were shrinking, they'd probably be about the right size too.

I drove from the university and did a trip to Asda, to the hypermarket at Cribbs Causeway. It's a very large store with a big food shop and equally large household shop. I topped up on all the things we needed and loads of things we didn't. But I did get a new printer cartridge and copier paper there. I also bought a pair of shoes for a tenner, and a plain black top.

Then it was off to the hospital and travels with my father. He was with the physio when I got there and when he wanted or she demanded, he could walk with a zimmer frame. Mind you I think the whip sort of encouraged him.

I waited for a half an hour while he had a snooze, he was always tired after the physio-terrorists had been to see him. I chatted with the ward sister and she was suggesting dates for my proposed talk to her probus group. I looked so efficient writing it in my diary, of course academic ones run from september to august, so I had mine already and wouldn't have to get a new one from january. I'd have to borrow a digital projector from the uni and do a powerpoint thingy with my pretty slides. Should send 'em all to sleep, crikey, I hope it doesn't send me to sleep, that would be embarrassing. I projected the scenario: 'And this is, (yawn) the great furry thing also called the (yawn) oujamaflip, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!' That woke me up! Well I laughed out loud, I'm sure they all think I'm totally doolally.

I fed my father his sandwich, he was half a sleep so he ate it before he came to. I then had to explain why it wasn't soup. I told him that I was going to do cottage pie for my tea. I'd bring him some in which he had to eat, or else! He laughed and shook his head.

If you promise to behave and eat your dinner when I bring it in, I'll take you out this afternoon.

"Go oo vub?" he almost shouted.

"Go to the pub?"

"Ess," he sparkled.

"I don't know about that, I was just going to push you around the hospital grounds as it's such a nice day."

His face fell. He looked at me imploringly and said, "Eeze, go oo vub, eeze."

How could I refuse? Maybe it's just as well I can't have children, they'd have me wrapped around their little fingers by the time they were a week old! Maybe I'll get a kitten or something soft and cuddly, except that kittens grow into cats, and they'd be running me ragged too. Dogs have masters, cats have servants, yeah I can believe it.

He agreed to get in the car, so I drove up to the access point for the ward and managed to get him into it. "Ice gar, is it voor?"

"Nice car, is it for?" I asked not making out the last word.

"Voor," he said pointing at me.

I began to wonder if he could speak Dutch, because I couldn't, the only world I knew was 'drol' or 'drole', which means a turd. It's amazing what you can learn in school, we had a kid whose dad was Dutch.

"My car?" I suddenly got what he was saying.

"Ess, voor gar."

"Yes, it's my car. Simon got it for me at a knockdown price. Apparently, cars which are written off and welded together from half a dozen others, are really quite reasonable."

"Vot, dane-jus."

"I'm only joking Daddy, I may be a dumb blonde, but I'm not a stupid one. It's actually pristine for its age."

I drove him to the same pub we went to before, only this time I didn't have any alcohol, just a St Clements, and Daddy had a half of Shrew's Scrotum, or something similar. A friend once brought me a bottle of wine with a label saying, 'The Dog's Bollocks'. So who was I to criticise the names of local brews.

He enjoyed himself, which was what I wanted and he was practically asleep in the car when I manhandled him back into the wheelchair. That woke him up but not for long. I left a bottle of Johnny Walker in his bedside cupboard, special offer in Asda.

The beef mince was simmering nicely and the potatoes were boiled and waiting for me to mash and cream them, by adding butter and milk and a little salt and pepper. I cheat, I use low fat spread, but it tastes okay.

After thickening up the gravy, in the mince and onion mix, I poured them into an ovenproof dish and spread the spud on top, then browned it under the grill.

I divided it into two, put one in the freezer when it was cool and plated up the other half, with some cooked mixed veg. This I packed for my dad. I had a jacket potato with tuna and a green salad. I love tuna, well I wouldn't want to marry one, I prefer Simon, but you get my drift.

Back at the hospital, I nuked his cottage pie in the microwave. He ate it much to the astonishment of the nurses, and he rubbed his tum afterwards, then winked at me, before burping. We both fell about at that, because he wouldn't do it at home, he was far too anal!

I stayed for another half an hour and he was getting so tired, he was nodding in front of me. I kissed him and left, pointing out the Scotch in his locker to the staff nurse, 'for purposes of bribery and corruption'.

She laughed and nodded. "You know, he is so much more cooperative and outgoing when he knows you are coming."

"Only because he hopes I'll take him up the pub."

"I don't know, he was on about your bike yesterday."

"You weren't on yesterday?"

"No, day off."

"I came in on my race bike complete with racing skins."

"Sister let you bring the bike in?"

"Yes, he hadn't seen it before and I wanted to show it to him."

"Crikey, she must have been in a good mood."

"I did point out it was worth four thousand quid."

"What! You're jokin'?"

"Actually, the latest model, is nearly four thousand seven hundred."

"What are they made of gold leaf?"

"No, too soft, carbon fibre. The other dear ones are titanium. Litespeed an American company I think, do a titanium frame which is three grand."

"Well how come Halford's can do one for ninety quid then?"

"Which would you rather ride, a ninety quid clunker from Halfords or a carbon fibre thoroughbred? I know which I'd rather have."

"Yeah but you know what your doin', I'd rather catch the bus." She cackled and I left. How can any able bodied person not want to ride a top class bike? Cor, there were some strange people about.

I drove home and called Simon. "I have an ugly natured Peruvian, illegal immigrant, who is threatening me with a marmalade sandwich. He tells me it's loaded and cocked."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know, I can't speak Spanish."

"How do you know about the sandwich, then?"

"I saw him cock it."

"Do you need a team of negotiators?"

"Dunno, no wait a minute, he wants a new pot of marmalade, thick cut peel, Seville oranges, peptin, sugar...."

"Hey, you're reading that off the jar!"

"Course I am, I don't know what's in marmalade, I don't like it."

"Don't you?"

"No, I prefer jam, so if he stays here, he'll have to adapt, I'm not putting myself out for an illegal immigrant."

"You'd better send him back then, at least we eat marmalade here, Keiller don't ya know."

"He's shaking his head, says you'll make him do cheap labour with a gang master."

"How did he know that?"

"Hang on, he said Winnie the Pooh told him."

"Anybody listening to this conversation would think we were completely barmy."

"We are, I caught it off Stella."

"Yeah, so did I."

"When are you coming to babysit?"

"Tomorrow morning, after I pop into see Dad."

"How is he?"

"Happy, I took him up the pub lunchtime."

"Miss you," Simon said to me.

"Only because you're not working, making millions for the bank.

"But I am, I'm using a phone and internet, made them two million this afternoon."

"Just like that?"

"Slightly more complicated than that, but essentially, yeah, just like that."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Talk to me," he said.

"Sorry I was shaking my head."

"Fraid I missed that bit, watch you don't get sawdust on your neck."

"Did I tell you I'd ordered a guillotine?"

"What for cutting paper?"

"No a full sized one, oh and they're waiting on a new delivery of tumbrels."

"Socialist dormouse!" he hissed down the phone.

"Capitalist turkey," I spat back.

"See you tomorrow then, love you."

"Yeah okay, love you too."

12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.12.

Don't forget to comment. No aristocrats were actually injured in the production of this episode, although one or two were consulted, sorry, insulted. 8)