Time goes on

One has entered that delicious phase which is common just after Christmas Day during which one is not really sure of what day it is.  

It matters little that one has the day indicated on one’s watch face as one has begun to disbelieve such transitory and circumstantial evidence and the only way you can work out the day with any degree of assurance is to work forwards from the day when one didn’t have to go to school.  As that day was a Thursday and Christmas Day was on a Sunday it is all very difficult.

However I do know that tomorrow I go back to the doctor for a further check up.  The cough is still there but nothing like so severe as it has been over the last few weeks and what is more disturbing now is the rough quality of my voice which is not getting better. 

I have taken the ultimate step on the road to recovery and bought two new jars of honey which, together with freshly squeezed lemons and boiling water is my sure-fire recipe for my usual smooth velvet tones to return!

Today was the day of buying the bits and pieces for the pica-pica that we are supposed to take as our contribution to the New Year’s Eve meal in Terrassa. 

I sometimes think that I should be given some form of medal to going shopping with a devout and dedicated non-shopper. 

Years of parental training (maternal not paternal) thrown away when the person you are shopping with can only say, “Right, let’s go!” as soon as the most basic purchases have been made. 

Where is the appreciation of the more stately aspects of the noble art of consumerism when every pause and deviation is questioned by someone whose idea of shopping is to get what is needed and then get out.  I pity such a beggared vision of what shopping is really like.

I have done nothing about getting my teeth seen to.  A perfectly natural aversion to having my teeth seen to by anyone other than Mr Hamilton, the dentist of my childhood.  Every dentist since has been a pale reflection of the memory of the man in whom I put total faith.  I don’t think that I have ever fully forgiven him for dying and forcing me to go to someone other than himself.  It was only then that I understood the fear and loathing that other people usual displayed towards their dentists.

And now I have to go to someone who doesn’t even speak my language.  Though come to think about it Mr Hamilton’s Irish accent was usually impenetrable to me, so not much change there!

It will have to be done.  And soon.