Sunday, 22 November 2015

22nd November 2015 - the Big Chill

Thought for the day:  "Every family has a weird relative - if you don't know who it is - it is probably you"

Went to Llanelly House today - for a Sunday Luncheon. It was for the Lodge members and to host our widows of former members, and a very nice meal it was in a lovely venue. Ate a little too much, but that is about par for the course at the moment as I seem to be out most days. A nice bottle of wine and a stroll home afterwards.

Llanelly House
So not a lot happening - but whenever things get quiet I can depend upon an old friend to muse a little about something ... so I give you Roger...

Morgan - the Barber Surgeon...

This time last week I was re-learning a valuable lesson that I thought I'd never forgotten. It's a simple thing that we all should know that can have a tremendous impact on our lives and our well being. In short, never 'knock back' a slush puppy. 

What happened was this. Last Sunday I was at Techniquest in Cardiff doing Victorian surgery for the kids. Techniquest, for those who are not so enlightened, is a mighty building of experiments bringing science alive for nippers and more importantly their parents. It's completely brilliant and the staff are exceptionally enthusiastic and switched on. 

Anyway, it can get a bit dry in there and with all the talking etc my tongue was well and truly cloven to the top of my gob so, thought I, what I need is something cold. In the café there it was, a beacon of relief, a Slush Puppy machine. 100% frozen chemicals, spot on. Now, after a brief chat about brain freeze with Carolyn, who was busy inflating a balloon with a push bike, I wombled back to my stand and woosh, knocked back the best part of the Slush Puppy. 

To be honest it started with a very concentrated spot of pain just behind the right eye, then slowly it spread across the forehead whilst at the same time a second front of agony erupted at the rear of my skull. Down below, in my stomach, the infernal denizons from hell began freezing all the working parts in my manly torso and my spine became a lift shaft of torment as the torture began climbing up above to greet it's brothers in my head. 

Through a buzz of pain I could hear a little voice cry "Mummy why is that man playing statues and why has he gone that funny colour?" I gripped my forehead tightly so that it didn't fall off and replied " Ggrr umph, nahh nahh, eeeuurkk " 

At which point the mother said "He's probably foreign, let's go and shoot tennis balls out of the air cannon." Can anybody express the horror of combined rampant brain, stomach and spine freeze? 

And the moral of the story is, gentle readers, never forget past lessons learned and never, ever, knock back a Slush Puppy. Finis.

Should have gone for Chateau 41 

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