The telly's ear-splitting but she still cannot STAND this woman, that presenter, these ridiculous comedians.... Nobody speaks properly. They say aks instead of ask and momentarily instead of in a moment and yous instead of you. Civilisation is collapsing. No standards at all. Even at full blast.
She's definitely back.
Apparently there's absolutely nothing on. Very loudly. Who'd've thought absolutely nothing could be so deafening?
But it's all been at a distance lately (although I can still hear THE NEWS from her house which is a whole HOUR away from my house.) We've been in quarantine for a month. The four children of the apocalypse decided to take turns to have measles. No we didn't have the MMR thank you so much for aksing. But we will now. And anything else going. Wheel that dessert trolleyful of drugs our way and we'll have the lot.
Meanwhile her next-door-neighbour died - but she still doesn't know if it was him or her. 'I didn't see The Living One.' They who must not be named. Just spotted the hearse outside. And turned the telly up a bit more. I SAID she TURNED the TELLY UP a bit MORE. No there's NOTHING smelly on the FLOOR.
'Could you see who it is?'
'You said there was someone at the door.'
'No I said..... never mind....'
'Oh that silly door. Don't know what's the matter with it.'
Yes she's back in town. The Enablement Team never started at 4 visits as first thought necessary. 'What's the point of the putting to bed visit when they just get out again after we've gone?' the nice lady smiled. Good point. Then they dropped the getting up visit as she was always dressed and waiting anyway. Show off. Then another one went. And as from Friday, they ain't a-comin' no more. But she's got her little bell round her neck. Well, that button thing if she starts mis-timing her beam dismounts. Big bruv sends Tesco's round once a week. The District Nurse comes and sucks blood in the comfort of the BOOMING pale green living room. Funny phrase that - Living Room. Probably a better place to enjoy your tea than the Gasping For Breath Room. The Physio still tips up and does her thang. Although she's gawn an' dropped her hand-squidgey exercisey putty down the side of the chair. That silly chair. And there's always the phone....
Apparently the volume button on that silly phone doesn't work properly. Up! UP!! Never look down in our world. Down is out. Up is all.
'I'll go in the other room....' pant shuffle bang clonk.... '...that's better. I can hear you now...'
'Wouldn't it have been easier to have turned the volume on the telly down?'
Pant click whirr.... '....well... oh that silly thing. Absolutely nothing on...'
Odd how my eyes automatically squint shut when I ring her. Strange scientific fact: if I screw up my face I am able to communicate more clearly. Stabbing something repeatedly also helps. In the Losing The Will To Survive Room.
Well we might be getting back to normal next week. (Yes I did have the audacity to say that.) Our threat to public health is over. And I shall be returning to the house of misbehaving volume controls very soon. I might stab them. Alot. It might not help them very much but I'd feel fucking great.