Saying goodbye to St Piran

Having recently embraced maxi skirt life and, as a result, having experienced a newfound inability to take big enough steps to do anything, I even let the nice boat man hold my hand as I climbed aboard, which I assume means that we’re married now.

Upon boarding, I was confronted with three vicars and bishop. I’d conveniently forgotten the whole ‘blessing’ part of the deal, so focused had I been on the serious business of having a pint on a boat.… Read More Saying goodbye to St Piran

Advertisements

Bloody well summer, innit.

Back when I lived in London I enjoyed the nice weather up until around late spring, but then the humidity would arrive, and the bad-tempered, sweaty men on the northern line would take up even more room while manspreading, and the air felt like it had somehow thickened in the heat, which was a phenomenon I had always previously assumed was reserved for sauces alone.… Read More Bloody well summer, innit.

Meeting the vicar without my knickers

They call over a nurse who tells them that, yes, they should be removing their underwear. After much outcry she scares up a few pairs of what look like cycling shorts made out of the same material as our surgical stockings. That way the doctor can cut them off if wearing underwear for an operation turns out to be wildly unhygienic. I think we all know which way it’s going to go.

“Do you want some?” She asks, waving a pair in my direction. I politely decline. I’ve already been without undies for a couple of hours and I’m feeling so liberated at this point that there’s a good chance I may never go back.

“She’s young.” One of the old ladies says, because apparently she feels the need to dismiss my being the only person who is actually doing as she’s told as youthful confidence.… Read More Meeting the vicar without my knickers

Gallbladder, I hardly knew ye

After I peed in some things (occasionally by medical request) and had some needles stuck in me (occasionally by medical request) I had to go for many and varied scans, which often involved drinking gallons of water before somebody pressed hard on my stomach with no regard to their being directly in the splash zone if my pelvic floor turned out to be less-than-stellar.… Read More Gallbladder, I hardly knew ye

The joy of saying ‘no’

Being new in town, though, and in need of Cornwall friends, I’ve definitely taken on more than I can keep up. Promise me, however vaguely, that it might be ‘a good way to meet people’ and I have always been there.┬áIt’s just that it’s a lot. I do tap dance on Mondays, yoga on Tuesdays, roller derby also on Tuesdays, choir on Wednesdays, paddleboarding any time of the week… I basically do more extra-curricular activities than some middle class five-year-olds whose parents already set their sights on them going to Cambridge.… Read More The joy of saying ‘no’