Bleurgh. I’ve eaten so much this weekend. Yesterday evening, dinner at mum’s for her birthday. Today, lunchtime, back around there again for a big (Quorn) roast for mothers’ day, then afterwards over to Alison’s for a whole-afternoon picnic on rugs on her lounge floor, followed by dinner and a whole melted brie for dipping. Very seventies fondue.

It’s a good job I did a serious gymming yesterday afternoon.

It was a strange afternoon today, though, as so many of the usual crowd couldn’t make it. There was just the four of us most of the time - me, Alison, Andy and Mark P, with Andy retelling his bed-blocking tales.

He’s been at the hospital for six years now, so knows about pretty much every nastiness that can befall a human body, including a particularly uncomfortable and unpronouncable condition where an ingrowing bum hair (I believe he called it an ingressing anal folicle) burrows its way through your skin into a cavity at the bottom of your spine, which it proceeds to fill over several years. Eventually you have to have the big knotted hairball surgically removed and the wound is left open to heal au naturel.

The embarassement of explaining that in the office the next morning can be nothing compared to what happened to a guy who wandered in last month, whose ‘girlfriend’ had lost a vibrator in his colon after it had ‘wriggled out of her hand’ and gone a bit too far of its own accord. I can’t imagine how long the two of them must have spent trying to get it out on their own before finally admitting he needed professional help, but by the time he turned up she’d made herself scarce, and the vibrator was still switched on, too far gone to be visible to the naked eye.

I wonder if he came on the bus (terrible pun unintentional), suffering the stares of fellow passengers as they tried to work out just how hungry he’d have to be to have such a rumbling stomach.

Anyhow, by sevenish our group of four had grown to six, and by eight it was up to nine, which made it a relaxing, entertaining way to end the weekend. The hospital mishaps, fortunately, came to an end before most of the food arrived, which perhaps explains why I now sit here feeling like I’ve eaten an elephant.

I must start swimming again next week.

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 21st, 2004 at 11:51 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.