Rolling Chicken

I meet friend D for a coffee at our usual place, Laboca Art Cafe, B greets us with one of his polite phrases"Hello slappers" we tell him to hurry up and serve coffee. He is using his lap top, so we look at his photos showing his partner, they were staying with B`s brother in law who is on the rich list. We are mad jealous of the massive swimming pool and fabulous rooms and furniture (Back to the rabbit hutch)

D and I share our mundane information of our week, I tell her that I had intended to plant some forget me nots in my Dad`s urn (Which I keep in the garden) but I can`t remember where I have put them. I tell her about my bus journey. I accompanied a friend of mine, Irene, we sat together, in front of us we observed a harrassed woman, submerged in food carrier bags, she is so flushed she reminds me of a clockwork doll, while behind us is a friend of I`s mother. We chat to mother`s friend, then notice the woman in front is struggling with her bags to the front of the bus. Irene looks down at her own feet and there is a carrier bag there, "Excuse me" she cries, you`ve forgotten one of your bags." she runs to the front and gives the shopper the bag. We watch as the poor woman hauls herself along he path. We continue our three way conversation until it is time for I`s mother`s friend to get off at her stop, she exclaims "Where is my barbeque chicken?" Whoops.

I have to leave early as I have an appointment for a blood test at the doctors, not an experience that I can stomach, as I generally pass out. Strange, that I can suffer injections to my upper arm, leg and even rump, but find it excrutiatingly sick making when subjected to blood taking, it doesn`t even hurt, but the idea of a vein being punctured does my head in. For this debilitation, I blame my mother, when I was around five years old I have a vivid memory of the return of mother dear from her blood test at the doctors. She took great delight in speaking of "The Doctor said that`s a nice juicy vein." And how she passed out onto the floor and was "Brought around." by smelling salts.

D has been to her static caravan in Cumbria at the weekend and began a converstaion with a fellow camper, a born again Christain, who will sing at church about the holy lamb of god, and then eat them with mint sauce. I am not religious, but still feel guilty eating meat, cute pigs, the beautiful brown eyes of cows and cheeky proud chickens, but I don`t delude myself that "God" put them here for us to eat, I feel guilty about eating a fellow creature, but I am honest and enjoy the taste. This woman was telling D that she was in haste to prepare for her candlelit supper, but she preferred to call them gadabout suppers as they were charging from van to van, then laughed at her own "Joke?"

The nurse takes the needle and phial from the sterile packaging, I am aware of this happening while trying to focus on ....cracks in the ceiling, posters, mindless chatter about the weather... anything to take my mind away from the impending doom of the needle. It doesn`t work, and I hear myself saying "I`m going to put my head between my knees now." She knows the drill. I am left in the room while she beetles around the building , then let myself out making sure that I close the door behind me. I then proceed to the hairdressers. Please don`t ask me where I`ve been, or I`ll pass out again at the thought of it!!!! I pick up a Hello magazine to divert my train of thought, Jordan is shown naked, heavily pregnant, pouting and curled around Peter, who is dressed like Sammy Davis Jnr...white shirt, loosened dicky bow tie and black waistcoat.

I leave to catch the bus home and make sure that I don`t put any of my bags on the floor.