Needle and Song ©
Today was a big day, a busy day, we all had lots to do. My small daughter had a day off as the Nutters were on strike, the Nutters was the title the union was given back in the 60s, so I’m remembering my own school days, just in case any striking teachers think I’m being offensive.
My big daughter was singing in her Gospel choir, she may or may not have been let out early, not for good behaviour, but because of potential strikes at her secondary school. The Show would go on come what may, they had a tent all rigged up for the show.
My wife was busy with her new job, as for me I had to have a needle up my bum, well not quite there but near enough. As you know I’ve got Arthur, my arthritis, which has decided to spread elsewhere, mainly my right leg. So I needed a pain relief injection. I was due to have it on Monday but there was a mix up, so today Thursday was the big day.
The mix up was partly due to the fact that our answer machine was not working, but the silver lining was that I dropped into Asda and bought mint chocolate ice cream. My big daughter had been off on Monday as the staff had a training day or something. So I came home still in pain but with the ice cream. I also got a baguette, which tasted fantastic, I think Henry only invaded France for the baguettes.
So today Thursday arrived and everything was planned. I would take my small daughter with me to the hospital orthopaedic outpatients, with a knapsack on her back. When I had my left hip done nearly a year ago the injection and so on took a few hours, so I assumed, wrongly as it was that my daughter would be hanging around. So in the knapsack was a drink, a bowl of freshly cut and chopped melon, a polish ham sandwich, and 2 packets of baked chedders, the Aldi version. And I forgot a fresh book by Jacqueline Wilson.
At Dudley Rd, though they like to call it City Hospital nowadays, you go up an escalator to the 1st floor, then they must have run out of money, because you then have to use the stairs to get to the 2nd floor. The guy on reception had a watch very similar to mine, so good or is it bad taste is not just confined to me.
I met a really nice lady in the waiting area, she works at a disability centre in Coleshill, so God Bless her and more power to her elbow, looking after people with disabilities.
I was able to take my daughter with me when it was my turn, she sat outside reading while the physio gave me the talk and then did an examination. Examination means twisting your leg until it hurts, I did quip about torture, but they have to know the state of your pain so they can then inject you.
They have a feel until you winch and then they know that is exactly the spot. It’s a bit like the old place the ball competitions, though there is no hissing sound as the air goes out of the invisible ball. Instead where you wince is where the needle goes in.
Now before I had my pain relief injection, we rung home to see how big daughter was doing, only the answer machine did not kick in. I was pleased that this time with this leg it was a very quick procedure, I had assumed they’d be injecting straight into the hip, this time it was just very high up the leg. No x-ray machine and nurses with lead blouses, no local anaesthetic, no ride in a trolley, just jump on the bed.
Perhaps I should have been a boy scout, be prepared and so on, so we got the bus home, the return fares were £6.75 which is a lot of money, you can buy 4 packets of Aldi crispy chicken and a bottle of pop for that. So I gave the ticket away to a lady on the bus, at least somebody could get more value from it.
We got home and decided to check out our answer machine again, this time sat in front of it. The answer machine was dead, though the fancy white phone worked. The phone had been making some “farting” noises for a few weeks and we couldn’t quite work out what was wrong. I’d be sat here talking to you all while the phone farted on the shelf behind me and the piano.
So big daughter came home, she hadn’t been let out early after all, we had ½ hoped she’d come home early then her little sister wouldn’t have had to go trekking after me. We even texted her a couple of times and made one call to her mobile, for if she had come home early it would have coincided with my departure time. Only there was a problem with all that, big sister never has any credit on her phone.
So in an hour big sister was turned around, fed and watered and changed into her street cred clothes in black, all ready for the Gospel Choir. As for me and small sister, we went up the road looking for a phone. I had found a cheap nice one and even reserved it. Only when I got to the shop they couldn’t find the reservation. So I picked it out again, only it was not in stock, hey Argos your system failed there.
Anyway I picked another one, even cheaper, and gave my daughter the change. So a good day all around. Then it was off to Pound Land for Loom Bands, these are the biggest thing in kids toys at the moment. We also got batteries for the fire in the doll’s house, every member of the Casey family big and small was looked after.
Once home we plugged in the new phone in, they are only as big as mobiles, hey presto our house was P O S H. Then you play with the sounds, which is the nicest, there was only 5 on this model, I have 20 on my cheap mobile, the one under my bed which I use as a radio, the one whose number I don’t even know.
Mum came home, so the wok came out, we had an hour to turn her around and send her to pick up big sister at the school. As for me, I showed her my bum, or rather my thigh, so she could see where I was injected. I moved away before she could poke me with the chopsticks. So I did something useful, I bagged the old phone and left it outside for sky burial. Within the hour the phone was gone, somebody would have a nice new white 10 year old second hand phone, without answerphone.
Now once mum and little sister left to pick up big sister I had time to play with the phone, I liked the sounds and was happy, all my girls liked it too. So it was a good buy. Remember if you live with 3 girls everything is questioned.
Now big daughter sings in the choir on Sunday, with her little sister as well. Me and my brothers were altar boys, I even read the reading for 5 years plus, a sister is in the same choir for 46 years. Big daughter also has piano lessons, she’s even won a Deans Award. So why am I mentioning this?
Because big daughter wants to sing a solo, she’s not a pushy girl she’s not one of these over confident pain in the butt kind of girls. She’ll get 90% plus in various subjects but never boast about it, that’s the way we like it. Humility is Strength if you like.
BUT IF YOU WANT TO SING A SOLO YOU HAVE TO MAKE NOISE, TELL THE WORLD, DON’T BE A MOUSE. Will she do that? If she does I’ll let you all know. I remember once showing a poem to somebody and the reaction is “YOU WROTE THAT?!” So I can tell her that Life is not Just, you may be the best singer and performer but unless you stand up for yourself then it won’t happen. So, dear daughter be pushy or forget about it.
The same goes for writing, 50 Shades of Grey has sold 30 million now, how many copies of 300 and Not OUT, or Quick Stories to name but 2 of my books. Life is strange, encouraging my neighbour said “maybe you’ll be famous when you are dead”, I am trying my best to stay alive despite my weaknesses.
As for the writing, that keeps on coming, if ever the Arthur, my arthritis prevents me typing then I’d cry, but then I’d get new technology, speak and type software.
The night did finish with laughter, my wife waited for 30 mins but the concert did not finish. So she went and complained to a black lady, “can you tell my daughter I’m here” A small Chinese lady asking for her daughter, her non solo singing daughter in a Gospel choir.
Only there are no Chinese girls in the choir, our daughter looks totally Western, apart from the great hair, or if you look really closely into her eyes. So the black lady was surprised that our daughter had a Chinese mum, an irritated mum, who had been kept waiting.
Melon was on offer once big daughter came home, though dad had to be persuaded to go around the corner for chips, my Chinese girls do like chips, it’s a treat, it makes a change from rice and chicken. So we ate the chips as an act of solidarity with our non-solo singing daughter.
As we ate the chips I started singing just like Topol, “if I were a rich man, you could sing solo in a Gospel choir.”