I suppose reading Tom Glassey's blog, I remembered my visits (as an escort not a patient) to the Cardiothoracic Centre in Broadgreen, Liverpool.
Broadgreen Hospital.
Christmas 2003.
Robert Owen House.
Me and a house full of women. They were all well into their 60s except one who was around 30 and more than 10 years younger than myself. We got on.
Her partner was in intensive care.
"A split aorta. Brought about from too much smoking and partying".
She was quite frank and
I saw her again in Strand Street this lunchtime. It’s all about display isn’t it. Showing off the tattoos and the thong and the baby.
The baby was about to make a noise but she said words on the lines of:
“Shut the f*** up, don’t f****n start or I’ll slap you up the f***** street”.
It did the trick.
In the words of Billy Connolly “Shut your face . . . . and his face was shut”.
But her friends gathered were proud of her. No doubt they too will have their very own bundles of
So they never returned although I see some of them about now and then. The girl with the joint, I see her pushing a pram up Strand Street. Extra extra tattoos an a'.
Baby is always quiet though. Very quiet.
It won't be long before he has his very own baseball cap.
Of course it's nothing new to fight noise with noise, there's even an article about it in this month's Outlook magazine, I see from the forums:
But I don't think I was trying to fight back. I just wanted to share my en
Ingredients
2 large speakers
Shown are a pair of 18inch Goodmans 100w speakers. Absolutely ideal, good bass output and a particularly heavy chassis.
Select appropriate music eg Lena Martell, Derek Batey 100 Favourite Hymns (Vol 4 and Vol 5), Jim Reeves. (Le pièce de résistance)
Vinyl capable music centre or Hi-fi, with repeat play LP record facility
Note: vinyl not strictly essential and a CD player would do but only if you can obtain suitable CDs.
Rocking chair
Woolie
There are four flats involved hereWe have always been a friendly and considerate lotIf you don't mind me saying so myselfThen a few weeks back the flat below me went vacantSome, well, how can I say . . .Undesirables moved inWhen they first moved in, complete with baseball caps and trainers etcI thought great, young folk, maybe add a bit of life to the placeFirst night in they had a party loud music people in and out ALL night longWell, you can't beat a good housewarmingSo although I had no sleep
Feeling not only physically fragileBut generally very ill tooReally guilt ridden I can tell youI braved the world andWent outside to phone in sickAs I was walking down the stairs the peopleIn the flat directly below ("them")Were just coming outI froze,HorrifiedBut when they heard meThey quickly scuttled back inside and were whisperingI wanted to apologize.What was going on?On my way backI knocked on the door of one of the other flats belowIt was occupied by a pleasant girl, a nurse, who opened t
Oh no.Oh dear.I can't explain but I need to speak to someoneYou'll do, if you don't mindI feel really awful . . . really, really awfulYou won't guess what I've doneOh no.I'll have to go back to bed nowI'll phone in sickI can't believe thisI'm not going to drink again
Yes, this evening I will be ready for the effects of this magical red elixir to take its effectLast evening I had hoped for sunshine and California but I went into Val Doonican mode instead. The poor man's Dean Martin some would sayYou can't win 'em allSo before I start to imbibe I will be ready1 - guitar tuned 2 - woolie jumper on3 - rocking chair ready4 - Val Doonican chord and song book open I'll be back later . . . . . . . .
I'm strictly a lager lout these past few yearsBut as the temples hint grey I decided to go for sophisticationA bottle of red wineAnd in search of the spirit of my namesakeA trip to ShopriteI spent 2 hours scanning their shelves - 3rd aisle on the rightYou'll find the wine - there's lots of nice looking bottles with storiesWritten on the labelsI went for the second cheapest red in a nice looking bottleYou never know who might be behind you in the checkout queueScanning and analysing your buys . .
