thor lip

the last couple of days have been full of adventure, even by the standards of my peeps. yesterday herself went to see the queen. to prepare for the visit, she decided she would need to practice curtsying in case she had to curtsy. no-one seemed to know how to do this. herself knows how to bow as she does this when she is grovelling round judges. she also had to bow when she did taekwondo, although the less said about taekwondo the better, especially in front of her achilles tendon.

as luck would have it, herself had cause to speak to someone she knows who is a member of the aristocracy. this conversation unfortunately took place just after the queen's visit was over. as it turned out the queen had no interest in meeting herself anyway so it did not matter. the member of the aristocracy said "oh its easy. you just put one foot behind the other, bend down a bit and then you fall over." so maybe just as well curtsying was not called for, or the other achilles could have copped it as well.

after not meeting the queen herself and her assistant were walking back to the car. as they reached the end of the road, a car roared up, swerved into a side road and narrowly missed a blind woman, a guide dog and 4 very small children. herself shot across the road and shrieked at the driver, leaving no stone unturned in bringing him to a realisation of his folly. he roared off equally quickly, no doubt with burning ears. little does he know that herself and her assistant have no intention of leaving things there.

the subsequent reporting to the police and ranting and raving made herself late for the hairdresser yet again. i fear that herself is going to get the sack. our hairdresser (or hairslayer as my boy calls her) comes round and does a mass shearing of the peeps and the friends round the corner. she is a truly saintly lady and has put up with my boy and his evil temper about haircuts ("i wish they had never invented hairdressers!") for years.

this evening herself came home from work breathing a sigh of relief that the week was over. later on mrs captain called and asked if my boy would like to come to play. off went herself and my boy. no sooner had they got in the door than the captain was regaling her with details of his malaria. it seems he has been somewhere hot. it was decided that the captain just had a touch of man-malaria and mrs captain and herself sat down to watch the young folks bouncing on the trampoline.

shortly afterwards my boy's friend started pulling faces, pointing at my boy and clutching his stomach. my boy's friend is something of a prankster so herself at first thought this was a joke. but it appeared not. herself shot out to see what had happened. my boy was bleeding from his mouth and clutching his stomach. herself, as my readers would already know, is good in a crisis. however, where my boy is concerned she has to try very hard not to scream. he has not bled since he fell on a flint when he was 3. this particular bleeding scenario did not look too good. as soon as my boy could speak he was able to say that it was only his lip and that his friend had not landed on him and given him horrific internal injuries, which calmed herself considerably.

my boy was given an ice cube to suck and after a fair bit of spitting blood was persuaded to partake of crunched up paracetamol mixed up in jam. things settled down and the time came for herself and my boy to head for home. a grocery delivery was expected and herself wanted to head off the bill before himself saw it. himself is not all that good at handling deliveries.

mrs captain did not want herself to leave. "you don't care - i'm just blog-fodder to you!" she cried. to which herself, rather heartlessly, in my opinion, replied "thats perfect, i'll put that in the blog!" if i had been mrs captain i would have resorted to one of herself's favourite sayings, namely "i rest my case!" but at this moment my boy came into the room. his lip by now was quite large. "oh crap!" he said, "i can't say pith off any more!"

this reminded herself of the time when my boy's front teeth had come out. this coincided with his obsession with fluorescent lights. he had been mightily upset when he could no longer say striplight. "thriplight!" "friplight!" he would say, getting more cross with each attempt.

he will just have to think of new expletives for the duration. i hope he doesn't take any lessons from mrs captain...