They call over a nurse who tells them that, yes, they should be removing their underwear. After much outcry she scares up a few pairs of what look like cycling shorts made out of the same material as our surgical stockings. That way the doctor can cut them off if wearing underwear for an operation turns out to be wildly unhygienic. I think we all know which way it’s going to go.
“Do you want some?” She asks, waving a pair in my direction. I politely decline. I’ve already been without undies for a couple of hours and I’m feeling so liberated at this point that there’s a good chance I may never go back.
“She’s young.” One of the old ladies says, because apparently she feels the need to dismiss my being the only person who is actually doing as she’s told as youthful confidence.… Read More Meeting the vicar without my knickers
I watched a lot of Netflix, do not get me wrong. Sometimes I even betrayed them and used my sister’s Amazon Prime account (shoutout to Mrs. Maisel). But I have a Netflix list that’s hundreds of hours long, and it turns out I have absolutely no concept of how much TV a human being can watch in two weeks when they also have to sleep, occasionally be in pain, or do literally anything else. Which is a really long-winded way of saying I made it through two and a half seasons of Gilmore Girls and a couple of episodes of Friends, although one of those episodes was Ross & Rachel’s breakup so that counts for at least five. I really thought I’d manage more, though. I guess, like Icarus, I dreamed too big.… Read More What I did on my holidays (AKA sick leave)
After I peed in some things (occasionally by medical request) and had some needles stuck in me (occasionally by medical request) I had to go for many and varied scans, which often involved drinking gallons of water before somebody pressed hard on my stomach with no regard to their being directly in the splash zone if my pelvic floor turned out to be less-than-stellar.… Read More Gallbladder, I hardly knew ye
So with that in mind, I chucked my little bird book in my bag this time. I’ve had it since I was a little eight-year-old birdwatcher (I feel like, given the rest of this post, that shouldn’t be a particularly surprising revelation). One side of it is stained with blood from where I cut my knee while running up the garden path, because they teach you about scissors as a kid, but they never teach you the dangers of being a baby geek.… Read More I’ve hit Peak Countryfile and it’s lovely
I once accidentally ended up in the middle of a huge surf lifesaving competition on the North Coast – children everywhere were just voluntarily wearing numbers and doing running as a fun Saturday afternoon activity. It was very alien to me. I mean, I will occasionally wear a number and do a bit of running if necessary but that is one hundred per cent for bragging rights and a reason to eat giant burgers under the guise of ‘refuelling’. It has nothing to do with enjoyment. And if you had suggested it to me when I was under the age of twenty four I would probably have wept.… Read More The kids in Cornwall are super-sporty and it’s terrifying
Being new in town, though, and in need of Cornwall friends, I’ve definitely taken on more than I can keep up. Promise me, however vaguely, that it might be ‘a good way to meet people’ and I have always been there. It’s just that it’s a lot. I do tap dance on Mondays, yoga on Tuesdays, roller derby also on Tuesdays, choir on Wednesdays, paddleboarding any time of the week… I basically do more extra-curricular activities than some middle class five-year-olds whose parents already set their sights on them going to Cambridge.… Read More The joy of saying ‘no’
Have you ever seen a Christmas tree go up in flames? If not, I highly recommend it. In many ways it’s similar to the time at university when I accidentally leaned into a candle, in that there’s a bright flash of fire and a really loud fizzing sound. Of course, with the Christmas tree the… Read More Twelfth Night, or Let’s All Burn Christmas To The Ground
She blew down the trees,
And she carved up the beaches,
But I didn’t feel it
Because of my breeches.
Cocooning my legs
Like a black plastic shroud,
You protected my jeans
From the contents of clouds.… Read More An ode to my waterproof trousers
The Cornwall to London sleeper train is a great way to get about the country if you have to arrive up country (yes, I just said ‘up country’. I say that now.) early in the morning for reasons of business, travel, or a desire to maximise all free food opportunities available to you during a… Read More The Cornwall to London Sleeper train: A timeline (dignity not included)