It has been faaaaarrrrr too long since I last wrote on here - partially out of chaos, final house sorting out and the lack of broadband combined with the most hectic social life since I was 6. If I had been this popular when I was a teenager my mother would have needed a shotgun at 12 Tenby Avenue! I have met a Norwegian via the via for a drink (interesting person, totally different sense of humour - shame for those jokes completely "catamaranning" over his head...never mind sailing!); had the MOST amazing brisket at Bodean's in Clapham (it is a must - yum!!!) and the moved into my house on Friday morning with a little thrill in my bones - things were really all staring to come together! The taxi driver over did manage to put a slight dampener on things - grumpy old twaddle! But ag - you want to play in the BEEEG London playpen, then best you buy the latest toys (like, um, a map book!!!!!!)
Anyways - Friday came. I moved in. Then it hit me. The London Lurgie. A lurgie like no lurgie that had gone before. You know the one that makes you feverish, delusional (I told Matt there were blue feathers on my bed!) and totally miserable. I lay in my bed and felt very sorry for myself. Matt tried to assist by identifying the closest "walk-in" centre (aka for a clinic in SA speak)...and we found one in Parsons Green. I load myself dressed in 92 million layers of clothing into the back of a cab (who again did not have a map book - bless their cotton socks!) and got ceremoiously dumped outside the Parsons Green WIC. Needless to say - those ranting old women you see in Bulawayo who look as though they have not bathed in forever and are mumbling themselves under their breath in the street - I was their distant cousin twice removed that day!
Anyways - I truly got serviced in the WIC by Britain's finest example of nursing prowess. Her bedside manner was so remarkable that even Hitler would have been offended. She shoved paraphernalia in places it did not look like it would fit (like my ear - keep your thoughts out the gutter mind!) and the promptly advised (the walking dead person in front of her), that she could not help me as the Parsons Green WIC did not do any major assistance to patients on the weekends, only these services (and then points behind her on the counter to the likes of : dressing changes, wound reviews and my personal best - adult nappy changes)....so a dead and dying (well not quite, but you get the picture!) African is then given directions to get to the Chelesea and Westminister Hospital on Fulham Road. Fan my brow - I just needed antibiotics Auntie! Off I trundled (sans Transport Pass - of course I did not have it - why would I - cab in and cab home was the initial plan!).
After a rather tiresome wait (I walked out of Chelsea and Westminister Accidents and Emergencies at 3pm.....dyke lady had seen me at 9.15am)....I came to the startling conclusion - 1st world technology, 1st world transport, 3rd world waiting times! Thank you Lord for small mercies - like my company paying my private medical care on my behalf from 1 July!!!
My aching nostrils - then I got some half witted, delusional idea to head off, ON MY OWN, to Ikea. Whomever did not raise their hand to me and say - you are smoking MARIJUANA, it is NOT POSSIBLE to (1) do Ikea on your own and (2) it will take you HOURS to even cover the first floor - needs a slap! Never mind - I called in every favour and winning smile I owned! And I got ceremoniously delivered to my home with all my new purchases (I was SO prudent - money goes places here!) by a Somalian who was so pleased that we had eaten his "mealie towels" when we had Ethiopian food (thanks Tobes and Jimbo!)
My house is looking lovely - I am off to make furniture with my borrowed hammer - pity not all things are so easy to borrow around here! Come visit won't you all - would love to have you! Broadband and telephone line go in on Friday - and then Bob is your uncle, Fanny your Aunt and Simba is your distant cousin! Tatenda Baas!
Anyways - Friday came. I moved in. Then it hit me. The London Lurgie. A lurgie like no lurgie that had gone before. You know the one that makes you feverish, delusional (I told Matt there were blue feathers on my bed!) and totally miserable. I lay in my bed and felt very sorry for myself. Matt tried to assist by identifying the closest "walk-in" centre (aka for a clinic in SA speak)...and we found one in Parsons Green. I load myself dressed in 92 million layers of clothing into the back of a cab (who again did not have a map book - bless their cotton socks!) and got ceremoiously dumped outside the Parsons Green WIC. Needless to say - those ranting old women you see in Bulawayo who look as though they have not bathed in forever and are mumbling themselves under their breath in the street - I was their distant cousin twice removed that day!
Anyways - I truly got serviced in the WIC by Britain's finest example of nursing prowess. Her bedside manner was so remarkable that even Hitler would have been offended. She shoved paraphernalia in places it did not look like it would fit (like my ear - keep your thoughts out the gutter mind!) and the promptly advised (the walking dead person in front of her), that she could not help me as the Parsons Green WIC did not do any major assistance to patients on the weekends, only these services (and then points behind her on the counter to the likes of : dressing changes, wound reviews and my personal best - adult nappy changes)....so a dead and dying (well not quite, but you get the picture!) African is then given directions to get to the Chelesea and Westminister Hospital on Fulham Road. Fan my brow - I just needed antibiotics Auntie! Off I trundled (sans Transport Pass - of course I did not have it - why would I - cab in and cab home was the initial plan!).
After a rather tiresome wait (I walked out of Chelsea and Westminister Accidents and Emergencies at 3pm.....dyke lady had seen me at 9.15am)....I came to the startling conclusion - 1st world technology, 1st world transport, 3rd world waiting times! Thank you Lord for small mercies - like my company paying my private medical care on my behalf from 1 July!!!
My aching nostrils - then I got some half witted, delusional idea to head off, ON MY OWN, to Ikea. Whomever did not raise their hand to me and say - you are smoking MARIJUANA, it is NOT POSSIBLE to (1) do Ikea on your own and (2) it will take you HOURS to even cover the first floor - needs a slap! Never mind - I called in every favour and winning smile I owned! And I got ceremoniously delivered to my home with all my new purchases (I was SO prudent - money goes places here!) by a Somalian who was so pleased that we had eaten his "mealie towels" when we had Ethiopian food (thanks Tobes and Jimbo!)
My house is looking lovely - I am off to make furniture with my borrowed hammer - pity not all things are so easy to borrow around here! Come visit won't you all - would love to have you! Broadband and telephone line go in on Friday - and then Bob is your uncle, Fanny your Aunt and Simba is your distant cousin! Tatenda Baas!
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