Note the royal we (one 'e' not two). The little mite looks just like a skinned rabbit. But such pe
rfection in miniature. Strange emotions flow through very cynical arteries. What does the next three years hold for this mite? If only we knew!
Murphy is not impressed. If he is not centre stage, forget it. He looks, but feigns no interest, but I reason he would like a proper 'sniff and roll-on'. It's what he does with anything new.
Haven't been at my best recently, with the M.S. having a real bite. Nothing drastic, a bladder infection threw me out of tune. As a result I have spent some time at the doctor's waiting room. Do doctors work to the same time scale that we use? Has anyone with a 10.45 appointment ever seen the doctor at quarter to eleven? I think that they are in a different time zone to us.
This leads me to the waiting room. Notices everywhere. I counted them - dozens. I think they rely on boredom to make you inwardly digest this sort of stuff. Sitting in the waiting room, listening to the coughs, wheezes and groans of the old customers, a thought struck me. They are nothing but a reservoir for germs.
We have collective names for everything: a skulk of foxes, a murmuration of starlings, an exhalation of larks. What would be the collective name for patients? A splutter, a moan or a creak?
This last bank holiday, which I think used to be Whitsun (don't quote me) was typically cold and wet. We had visitors and ended up in Matlock Bath at the old Spinning Mills (was it Arkwrights?) Being anti-social and wanting a pipe, out of necessity, I stayed outside. Sitting by the River Derwent, enjoying my pipe and watching the world flow by, there were Mayfly hatching on the river.
I was amused to watch the birds harvesting this handy food source, when I noticed a newly fledged little brown job trying to copy his mum and dad. The fledgling didn't have the eye, wing and beak co-ordination of his parents and trying to catch the mayfly, forgot to flap his wings, with disastrous consequences. Birds and water are not a good mix, unless you're a duck. Fortunately he got out, but what a harsh lesson!
On returning to base, Murphy required a trip out. We had a pleasant jaunt and as returning became inevitable, a small stupid rabbit showed his presence. You can guess what happened next. The result was one and a quarter hours later, I was still awaiting his return. Eventually a very tired, wet and mucky Murphy decided to re-appear -tongue hanging out like a red tie, steam from his wet hide and a grin three quarters of a mile wide - repentant, was he hell?
I have just had this thought:
My new granddaughter has become the cream bun at my table, the apple in her nan's eye and the bright star of our lives.
See you
Buggy Man
