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AS I LIVE...PART 39. Gladys Simpson had found that by gluing a painted blue marble to her eye-patch, it gave a more third-dimensional look while at the same time also gave a most piercing glare. Not that this had anything to do with what happened, it simply gives gravy to the meat if you understand what I mean. Well, you will get to reason it out for yourself when I write that Gladys Simpson had taken a ‘Home-Course’ on herbal beauty treatments and needed volunteers on which to try her expertise. I have learned from a bitter experience in my youth never to volunteer for anything. This pertains to a time when, in the Boy Scouts, I volunteered to save a cat that had climbed high up into a tree and could not get down again, well, that’s what I was told by the sweet little old lady. As a stalwart volunteer I climbed slowly and surely up the tree and reaching the top branches I looked up to see the cat, a striped being which wore an expression which I can only describe as a wide smile (The name Cheshire Cat comes to mind.) It was then the cat seemed to deliberately jump from the top-most branches, to land on a lower branch, to then descend at speed, leaving me clinging to the slimmest of branches. It was also then I discovered what Vertigo was, that I had developed a fear of heights. This brought about a call for rescue which then brought out a rather red fire-engine and disgrace for my lack of bravery. In writing of my earlier time, you will now be certain that when Gladys Simpson asked for volunteers I was not on board! “You will know.” said Gladys Simpson to Miss Bracket. “As we get older, we begin to lose our hair. And looking at your head under the light I can see many holes where the hair has grown thin.” Gladys Simpson reached out to touch Miss Bracket’s head as she spoke, finger-prodding the dips of missing hair. “There, there and there.” she said. The fact that Miss Bracket had not volunteered seemed to not bother Gladys Simpson and, having had her head severely pecked, Miss Bracket was now slumped in a semi-conscious lie of uncaring mood. “We shall soon have your baldness put to right with this herbal remedy.” imparted Gladys Simpson, putting on a pair of rubber gloves and dipping her hands into a bucket, coming out with some kind of mixture which was not advantageous to the nose. Giving a literal dollop of the stuff to Miss Bracket’s head, Gladys Simpson began to rub the ‘Goo’ in with heavy hands which rocked Miss Brackets head from side to side. To say that Miss Bracket was uncaring before was now most definite as her eyes closed and dribble began to flow. I, along with the others watched the performance with fascination, noting too that the harder Gladys Simpson rubbed, the more the effect, the effect being that what little hair Miss Bracket had on her head seemed to be even less as it came away, dislodged by the ‘Goo’. It was at that time and interrupting the flow, that Terry Albright came through the communal entrance door carrying a bucket in one hand, the chicken which had been rescued earlier from the cupboard under the stairs, under his other arm. “I have some more chicken ‘Poop’ for your hair remedy!” he shouted to Gladys Simpson, who asked that it be emptied into the bucket she had on the floor and, with a determination, she mixed it with the other in the bucket and splattered some more onto Miss Bracket’s head. Now while most people would try to stop the remains of Miss bracket’s hair being removed, here the residents sat quietly and watched. I dare not move in to stop the balding procedure, not with the formidable Mrs. Anderson giving me a warning look. This reminded me of films about gladiatorial combat, when those in the balconies watched the gore spilled in the arena. All this was brought to a sudden halt when the sound of a ’s hooves came ‘Clipping’ and ‘Clopping’ up the gravelled drive to the front of the building. Things happened so fast. Poor Miss Bracket was taken from the chair and laid to rest on the floor in a corner as the inmates moved. I had never seen such a flurry of movement as the aged and infirm, the walking-sticks flying and walking-frames skimming the ground, as the residents clamoured to look out of the communal window. It was a sight to see for there, sat on a tired-looking Dobbins was Humpy-Jack and Jim-Jams, both looking very much the worse for wear. It was of the utmost importance that the two should be ‘Dried’ of information, interrogated to an inch of their skins. And with this in mind the formidable Mrs. Anderson ordered the rest of the motley crew to bring Dobbins into the communal hall then drag the pair from the and seat them under the glare of the lights. “What I want to know is how you pair came back from wherever you went on the back of a which had run off with Old Ma Jones and Mrs. Jane Caution.” demanded the formidable Mrs. Anderson. “Sleep.” mumbled a very sad and tired Humpy-Jack. “We need food and a bed.” he cried “When you have told me what happened and where are Old Ma Jones and Mrs. Jane Caution, then you can have food and a bed.” replied the formidable Mrs. Anderson. Meanwhile, Dobbins had strolled over to where Miss Bracket lay, its nostrils stretched as it sniffed at her head then, with a large wet tongue Dobbins licked the rest of Miss Bracket’s hair from her head and ate it. |
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12/14/2011 1:41 am |
Poor Miss Bracket. I hope someone got her a wig from the Charity Shop! As the the cat rescue. Mmmmm! Let's hope Humpy-Jack and Jim-Jams manage to get some sleep - although I doubt it! Thanks for the great morning laugh. Amy  I am not sure how much more the old brain can stand but I will keep going till the lights go out!...God bless the Charity Shop I say! take care and be good... Ron.
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12/14/2011 1:45 am |
Well, Ellie's friend, I too began to feel sorry for Miss Bracket but then I remembered that she had the choice of going into that hall of residence or to become a sailoress in the Russian Navy. She mad e her choice and so we must not feel too sorry for her! Tomorrow is a whirl of confusion and still more to come. It just pleases me that I can give you people a good laugh and a happy day to follow... Be well in all you do... Ron.
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12/14/2011 4:33 am |
Goodness Ron, I think Im not "all there" as I often feel I would love to be in there having a great laugh with you and all the residentsYou know, a bit like a psychiatric hospital, a refuge from the world!!! I had forgotten about the horse but Im glad to hear he is still alive and going strong, for the moment anyway. Looking forward to the next instalment, if they hvent all killed each other in the meantime.
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Even though I haven't commented, I've been reading the adventures of the Motley crew. and a crew they are. They're trouble, mister... For your sake and safety, I hope they're not planning a surprise birthday bash ~ 
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12/14/2011 9:53 am |
You may well have the first horse to cough up hair balls! Spiritwoman ^i^
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12/14/2011 12:32 pm |
Goodness Ron, I think Im not "all there" as I often feel I would love to be in there having a great laugh with you and all the residents You know, a bit like a psychiatric hospital, a refuge from the world!!! I had forgotten about the horse but Im glad to hear he is still alive and going strong, for the moment anyway. Looking forward to the next instalment, if they hvent all killed each other in the meantime. (Joking!)It would be a pleasure to have you join us at the next disco but you would have to pass a medical from the Doctors of Sweet Haven!.. Stay sane and be good... Ron.
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12/14/2011 12:35 pm |
Even though I haven't commented, I've been reading the adventures of the Motley crew. and a crew they are. They're trouble, mister... For your sake and safety, I hope they're not planning a surprise birthday bash ~ Stay happy and safe... Ron.
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12/14/2011 12:37 pm |
You may well have the first horse to cough up hair balls! I didn't think of that! A hair-ball coughing horse! Now that made me laugh which is hard to do and so I thank you for a good giggle before I light my candle and go to bed...Thank you, Spiritwoman... Ron.
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