Shopping today...that meant getting up at the crack of dawn in order to have a shower and get dressed, put some slap on and then reach the Post Office to collect my pension before it closes at one o'clock...
I've given in and now lug my oxygen bottle into the bathroom when showering...thought it wouldn't make much of a difference actually, but it certainly does help, apart from getting dressed when the tubes are wound round my legs and I've one leg in a knicker hole and I'm hanging onto the chest of drawers like grim death to stop from falling over...
Then there's putting make-up on while wearing spectacles...sort of squinting out of one eye to see if there's a tidemark of foundation and wondering whether or not my moustache can be left until another day...putting kohl on usually results in my stabbing myself in the eye with a blue pencil then tears run down my cheeks and smear the carefully applied Nouveau Beige foundation...
Himself is walking about switching everything off and pulling out plugs and checking the back door is locked...he does that about twenty times...then he remembers he hasn't fed the rabbit so unlocks the door and goes off into the garden...while he's there he'll water the veggies in the poly-tunnel and then he comes in again and takes the binoculars outside...
The girl in the Post Office hisses at me through her security grille...Can I ask you if you have that COPD...she lowers her voice as though she's actually enquiring as to whether I have a dose of clap...I say I do and raise an enquiring eyebrow and she tells me her Uncle is recently diagnosed and he is going to have oxygen...so I tell her he'll be grand and she says he's an awkward old sxd and I say Oh dear...the woman behind me is shuffling her feet so I edge away and smile and say see you next week then...
There's a bloke standing outside collecting money for people recovering from addictions...he's jumpy and twitching and I could have sworn his eyes were whirling round but I give him two euro to put in his tin and he asks me why I need the oxygen and I explain about COPD and he dances about on the spot while he absorbs this information and people keep putting money in his tin and he tells me God Bless...
The shop was busy. Stuffed full of lanky teenagers all of whom are at least six foot tall and skinny as rakes...the girls are quite scary...long legs with their skirts hitched up and lashings of make-up...they sashay down the aisles and I gawp at them in awe...the lads push and jostle each other and nod when they pass me...How're doing, they ask and one lifts a heavy bag of potatoes down and puts it in my trolley then goes pink when I thank him...another reaches down the packet of garlic too high for me to reach...Ah...come here to me, he says...it'll be the garlic you're wanting?
They congregate in front of the sandwich counter...giving out their orders...bacon and cheese in a long roll please...two sausages and two eggs in a soft roll...mixed salad with extra scallions...school dinners are not what they were.
I get as far as the cheese and Himself comes to meet me...so now I'm totally befuddled because he asks is there anything he can get and I tell him we need a bottle of Vodka for Teresa...and more cornflakes...tins of ready- made custard and did he remember the cat and dog food and did he buy the cheap stuff...he looks guilty, so I know he'll have bought some rubbishy food for the cats that they don't like and won't eat and it'll be Butchers Choice for the dogs which stinks to high heaven and gives them the runs...
He meets me by the check-out and puts the soda bread on top of the ice-cream and the bottle of Polish Vodka, which always reminds me of paint stripper, will be banging against the jar of pickled beetroot while a bunch of scallions lies right next to the pack of butter...
But I hold my tongue and pay the final bill and think thank heavens that's over for another week.
xx Fred
I Do Wish...
