the brilliantly leaping gazelle

To anyone who read yesterdays post and thought to themselves ‘He’s crediting his bladder with a consciousness now, how arrogant is he, imagining that his organs are capable of thought and can act independently,’ here’s the proof.

Proof that my bladder is up to all sorts behind my back. Literally. It has persuaded the pores of my skin to join forces with it in what can only be described as corporeal crappery.. The spot had lain dormant, rather like a volcano, biding its time waiting. It knew it was situated on a part of the body I couldn’t access so it was in no rush. It was just there, doing nothing until eventually, out of sight became out of mind.

(There should be a large ‘photo Julie took of it, nestled right in the middle of my back. But seeing as how it’sbig and yellow. with a hint of green, probably best that I haven’t got to grips yet with wordpress’s editor thing. Oh yes, this blog was written yesterday evening, in case your wondering)

Then it got a message from my bladder. And it erupted with painful fury, all the more painful because I can’t squeeze it. I can’t even tell if it can be squeezed and even if it could, that’d be no fun. No drawing a target on the bathroom mirror with my Mums lipstick to aim for get a pusy bullseye for me. In fact, it was only after I persuaded Julie to take a ‘photo of it with her iPhone, that I was able to look at it. I toyed with the idea of asking her to squeeze it, properly squeeze it, where you carefully manipulate the pus in the surrounding area into a head and then go all John Belushi on it.

But alas, it’s only when this bounder is playing cricket does he respect boundaries. Even if shortly after that ‘photo was taken we had a chat about having a threesome. Not that kind of threesome. I have to choose my next few words carefully as I know she’ll be reading this. Can one be offended, insulted and yet feel good about themselves all at the same time? Possibly yes, possibly no, and I’ve no wish to find out which one it is.

We were talking about possible new support workers I might employ when I move back to North London. Julie had the idea of sounding out a few of the volunteers at a drop in/advice/therapy centre place another of her clients goes to. She used the word ‘happening’ to describe them. Bet they’d be chuffed with that. Possibly not as chuffed as if had she called them ‘groovy’. And nowhere near as made up as if she thought they were ‘with it’.

Anyway she said I might like to see other people, you know, see how it felt and all that, and if it felt right, then she wouldn’t feel hurt….at which point I had to interject that this was the sort of conversation that takes place within the confines of an altogether different type of relationship.

As in an altogether in the altogether type relationship!