Yesterday my soul decided to take a trip into a few parallel dimensions before being forcefully yanked back into my body, which at that point was sprawled on a doctors surgery floor. Those of you who know me will know my irrational fear of doctors*, in particular, doctors with blood pressure monitors (one of my colleagues informs me that she actually LOVES getting her blood pressure taken... which for one moment prompted the hatchling of an evil plan, but I guess it's just too much to hope that the doctor wouldn't notice a switch after the havoc I caused yesterday morning).
On a routine visit to the doctor they wanted to test my blood pressure. I warned the matronly nurse that I may faint, and that she should have a glass of water to hand. She began to cheerily tell me about her own aversion to needles and various details about her tonsilectomy, which patently did not help the situation. So down I went, and if you've never fainted you might not be able to imagine the strange state between waking and dreaming (Christian I believe I met you in some parallel dimension for a whisky or two). Opening my eyes, my first thought was: Am I in Australia? No. Am I in Sweden? No. Am I in England? Hmm...yes I think so. Only England could have carpet like this in a doctor's surgery... And then I noticed this huge face leaning over me, she looked familiar...then it hit me - it was a human version of Lunchlady Doris from the Simpsons. 'Are you alwrigh'?' she asked in an accent which left me in no doubt what country I was in, but was kind of confusing because last time I checked, the Simpsons wasn't set in East London.
My instinctive response (apart from, 'Oh my God, you're ALIVE?') was, 'Who the HELL are you?' but I kept my mouth shut until I could stumble outside and Mia came to get me and fed me numerous cups of hot tea. I felt literally beside myself for the rest of the day. Mum tells me that when I was a baby (born mind-boggling early) I spent the first two months of my life in hospital, and my heart actually stopped several times. This has quite shocked me - I mean obviously I remember going to the hospital incessantly, but I never knew quite how touch and go it was. So that put a hell of a lot in perspective - a student house and soggy summer are no match for me.
Later I met Simon who I haven't seen since I left Amsterdam. It was strange to catch up, but obviously my soul had left a bit of its alcohol-processing ability in some far-off multiverse (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it) and I fear after a few red wines I blabbed incoherently at him for four hours.
Meanwhile, my brush with oblivion has also put work in perspective, and I am far more inspired at the media corporation. I have even written my first pitch for a tv show as part of a staff competition, and if I get to work on that, then life-changing plan A (national fame, instant new career, famous husband and holiday house in Stockholm archipelago) might just come off in time for Christmas...
p.s. Queens Park update: celebrity resident list now includes Daniel 'James Bond' Craig, spotted last week at the local Starbucks.
*Fear of doctors does not apply to The Very Attractive Doctor Anders (TM)
1 comment:
Your blog is becoming more and more like the diary of Bridget Jones. Very readable and funny and almost just as tragic - with any luck this means that your Mark Darcy should be just around the corner! ;-)
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