Old Men Need Beds And Horlicks

Blimey I missed my bed, after just one night I felt so much better. The fact that my hips hurt so much that it woke me up in the middle of the night, was never a good sign to me, but last night was great and refreshing.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A nice sandwich for dinner

As I made my wife a beautiful pair of rolls for a little snackeroona on Saturday afternoon. I took the nice rolls on a nice plate and led them into the frontroom and gave the plate to my lovely wife, who proceeded to ask why one gammon roll was pink and the other was brown. It was at this point that I felt I had a duty, nay a requirement to educate and That the brown gammon roll was in fact a beef roll. Which does explain that variation in colour, i felt.
Read more

My relatives criminal Past....

Image
...Or just bad taste. I say this as we have received a very 'kind' present for the baby. One of our friends , may well be interested in this high art fashion item. I say high fashion as I can think of no other description for it, apart from it being the creation of a criminal mind. Either this or my relative, at one stage of her life, stole them from Liberace's kitchen cabinet! I cannot imagine anybody buying them, so they have to be stolen, surely? It certainly proves that 80+ year olds do technically transcend fashion. Behold the pair of rubber gloves we were given as presents! and if you really do want this zoomed in. Then behold the magnificent Be-jewelled gloves and precious stone (plastic) bound by a gold elastic band. I think you will admit that we are very fortunate to have recieved such a class item. We are also open to offers.
Read more

Olympic Vomiting

Tonight, we as parents witnessed, what can only be described as epic Vomit, from our daughter, at dinner. Having been fed her Milk at 3pm, and then a fish meal for her dinner at just after 4pm, an average day for her. Then one cough later, and she has been coughing throughout the day, out came this kind of milky green liquid vomit. It didn't dribble it, it came out like water from a fireman's hose. And I would not have been surprised if it could have been high pressure and directional, fortunately the direction in which I happily call the green river of fish and milk, flew straight into the her lipped plastic bib, just below the lip itself. A perfect fill so to speak. It reminded me of my friend Glen, who many years ago now, on a night out, downed a pint of beer in one and then proceeded to insert an exact pint of vomit back into said pint glass, the perfect pint. Astonishing at the time.
Read more