Posts Tagged ‘flatmate’

Wet Lettuce Days

“Gary made me a broth. Which is just soup but its called broth if you’re ill for some reason.”

– Miranda

It starts with a sore throat.

“If I ignore it, it’ll go away. It won’t even notice me. It’ll forget about being anything more. I’m just tired, that’s what it is.”

It goes on to be an even sorer throat.

Out comes the hot lemon!

“You will not become more. I shall exterminate any thoughts of grandous germy-ness that you have. You will not….”

Sneezing (I never sneeze unless the sun is in my eyes, which happens quite a lot with the low winter sun up here..)

Sniffing (Urgh, don’t you hate sniffers. It drives me mad. Even me doing it annoys me. A couple of tissues wedged firmly up each nostril sorts that out.)

Coughing. Coughing so much that you don’t know if your stomach is sore from the work outs that you have been doing in that desperate January effort to get fit or from the constant coughing up of a lung.

Blowing your nose  ALL THE TIME, is there an end to the snot? The gross bit being (if you are of a sensitive nature, don’t read the next part) gunk coming out of your eyes. Its just not nice.

Oh, and one of my favourites (as you are never sure when this one may happen) the unsuspecting ear pop. Ah! You didn’t even realise they were blocked did you? Tadah! You can hear again.

Thing is, everything goes wrong when you are ill. You also become someone else. This wet lettuce character that flops about. The type of person who can no longer get out of bed, the one that slides out and then crawls everywhere else from there. The person that walks to the fridge, opens it and stares at all the food that is in there (because there is food in there) and is such a wet lettuce that they can’t find anything to eat.

The well version of you would shake the poorly one and go,

“Get a grip! Look at all that food there, just cook some!!!”

But the poorly you, would look back through gunky eyes, having just blown their nose and say,

“But there are no biscuits.”

Poorly you lives off cans of soup from the cupboard, the ones that you really aren’t sure how long they have been there. But you don’t care, you want soup. Even if it does taste a bit funky, but that doesn’t matter because, hey, you can’t taste properly anyway!

The poorly you is the one that when your flatmate gets home and says,

“I’ll cook dinner.”



THAT’S when you know, you are really not well.

Photo 17-02-2013 23 01 42

Note: Thank you for Oscar-Hugo for  demonstrating his wonderful modelling skills. 


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“There is no love sincerer than the love of food.”

-George Bernard Shaw

Do you ever wonder what you’re thinking about when you don’t actually appear to be thinking of anything? Just me? Maybe. I decided to make a conscious effort to remember or be more aware of what I’m thinking when I actually appear to be thinking of nothing. (I need to clarify, I’m a massage therapist so my job doesn’t use a lot of brain activity and I use public transport A LOT! So I had plenty time to conduct this experiment.)

The next day at work I put this in motion. In with my first client of the day, a full body massage. Excellent, this gives me an hour and half of in-my-head time. Massage/experiment commence.

Thought pattern goes as follows:

I like Parma ham (yes I really did think that)

I really do like Parma ham

I like Parma ham on its own. Oh but it is nice with a good mozzarella, cracked black pepper, a little salt, sliced beefsteak tomatoes and ripped up basil leaves and a drizzle of olive oil. Oh yes, I do like that.

But its also nice with figs, fresh figs. Well I think its nice with figs. I always buy figs with this intention but I really like figs and I always eat them before I get the chance to do anything with them. I really must make an effort next time I get figs.

I wonder if scrambled eggs with ripped up Parma ham on top is nice too? I’m sure it is, because Parma ham is just amazing generally.

This is a scaled down version. The fact is that I thought about Parma ham for the whole duration of the massage. Not only that but proceeded to think about Parma ham for the rest of the day.


Amazed at myself for actually being able to do this for a full day (also secretly a little proud too) I went home that night and told my flat mate what I had discovered.

Far from being impressed, she could not believe that I had managed to think about just Parma ham for a whole day.

“How?” She asked

“It starts with Parma ham and then goes on to what you can do with it.”

“But…HOW? All day?”

“Its quite easy. So what do you think about, then, when you’re brain is wandering?”

“I don’t know really. I’ve never stopped to think about it.”

And as a passing final comment on the matter, I replied,

“You should try it”

Try it she did.

She informed me of this one afternoon while hanging out the washing on one of those rare sunny Scottish days.

“I did that thing you said about”

“What thing?”

“Thinking about what you think about.”

“Oh yeah? How’d that go then?”

“Well I did it while I was on the way home on the bus just now”


“Well there was this guy at the front of the bus. And I saw his hand.”

I’m already really not able to guess where this is going. But I like to wait for the main bit as her stories always seem to be slightly off key.

“And I thought ‘he must be Russian because his hand looks Russian. But then I thought he might be Scottish chav. But then I saw his thumb again and thought his thumb looked Russian.’ ‘”

By this point the washing is not actually being put out by me anymore because I am in a heap on the grass, just about crying with laughter.

“A Russian thumb?”

“Yeah” she replies all defensively. “Russian thumbs are different to Scottish thumbs.”

When I had stopped laughing just enough, I had to ask, “So was he Russian or Scottish?”

She replies with a dead pan face while continuing with the washing, “Neither. He was Polish.”

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