Monday, November 29, 2004

My tonsils so bootylicious - 7 days!

Reunited with the White Wagon of Death, I thought I'd go and sell some of my books today.

I took them into Totnes, the White Wagon only once threatening to derail my plans, when for zero reason, the temperature gauge explored the little part at the top, marked red with a skull and crossbones to its side. I observed interesting clouds of white smoke billowing from the exhaust. I decided against pulling over, what's the point? Nothing can cure the horrors taking place beneath the engine of this clapped-out Skoda.

I carried my books to the bookshop, and left the woman to go through them and work out a price.

I wandered around Totnes.

I went into Green Life, a hippy organic food shop where Jenny works. Jenny was out of sight, but I heard her voice coming from a back room. Standing by the door, I could see just Jenny's arms, a computer monitor with graphs on it, and an old guy bent down next to her. They were talking about some kind of stock issue. I stood there running my sensitive, intelligent, eyes over the contents of a refrigerated shelved unit.

There was Cannabis Beer, organic wine, and foreign-looking brands of orange juice, with weird smiling people on the packaging.

I carried on standing around. Jenny was still busy.

I wondered if anyone was watching me on TV, maybe they thought I was here with a view to stealing some Cannabis Beer.

I gave up and returned to the bookshop. I had left 70 books, many of them in perfect condition, and all of them eminently readable. Now I was ready for the verdict and an offer of ready cash.

The woman looked at me and then looked at the pile on the counter. Then she looked sad.

"I could offer you five pounds..." (For US readers, this is 9 dollars)
"For 70 books? Okay, they go back into storage."
She said nothing as I packed the books away again.
I felt I should mention the incredible bargain I picked up in the Orkney Islands last year.
"Oh, I found one good deal when I went through my collection. Do you know James Ellroy, the crime writer?"
"Yes."
"Well, I was in Orkney last year and bought a hardback first edition of The Black Dahlia for £3.50. I've since found out it's worth £275... that's good, isn't it?"
"Oh yes."
There was a wonderful pain in her eyes.

Immature tonsils

I took Puffing Billy (the White Wagon) round to the doctor's. I needed an emergency appointment because my tonsils are staging a takeover attempt of my mouth. This happens quite a lot. Some days I sit around wandering if I have a giant tumour forming there.

I think:

"Jesus, what if I have a tumour the size of a pomegranate in there?"

Then I wonder why the size of tumours always seem to be described as pieces of fruit or nuts (and occasionally, golf balls) - peanut, walnut, golf ball, peach, pomegranate, coconut, pineapple, watermelon...

To take my mind off this, I looked up pictures of infected tonsils on the internet. I compared them with my own. I decided that my tonsils are hypertrophic.

This is why I was at the doctors, to display my tonsils and get the necessary remedy.

I saw a guy called Dr Mansell. His wide grin suggested that he had finished raiding the medicine cabinet for this particular day. Seeing him jogged my memory, he was the same man I'd seen last time. He'd mentioned dancing the hornpipe completely off the cuff. Like this,

"And have you had any pain in the lower stomach?"
"Not really?"
"I wonder, have you ever danced the hornpipe?"
"Not lately..."

Today he is smiling, smiling hard. He smiles like he can't stop.

"Mr Kennedy! Mr Ken-e-deeeeee! Do come in!"
I go to sit down.
"Sit down! Sit down! Please, please..."
I wonder what dance he will mention this time. Maybe it will be the Highland Fling.
"I'm going to show you something disturbing," I say.
He doesn't look disturbed. Actually, he does look disturbed. He just doesn't look any more disturbed by my preamble.
"I'm going to show you my infected tonsils..."
His face is now smiling so hard his face may split at any moment. He seems to be nearing some kind of orgasm.
"Open your mouth, Mr Kennedy!"
I wonder at the wisdom of complying with this request. If he asks me to close my eyes, too, I'm leaving.
"I open my mouth."
"WOW!" he shouts, "look at those whoppers!"
I close my mouth.
"No! No! Keep your mouth open! My word, Mr Kennedy, why are your tonsils so large? Only a ten year old should have tonsils that large! And you're over 30!"
"Well, some of my friends say I act like a ten year old..."

He gave me a prescription for some pennicillin.

He waved it in the air with a flourish. "Try these, see if they sort those whoppers out!"

I ran away.

4 Comments:

Blogger bhikka said...

What no post on adios UK, here I come USA!!!! I am sad to see you go JK, I shall miss you oh too much. But I want to see regular postings about your adventures.

Best of luck

All my love and hugs

Cx

10:53 AM  
Blogger bhikka said...

What no post on adios UK, here I come USA!!!! I am sad to see you go JK, I shall miss you oh too much. But I want to see regular postings about your adventures.

Best of luck

All my love and hugs

Cx

10:53 AM  
Blogger bhikka said...

What no post on adios UK, here I come USA!!!! I am sad to see you go JK, I shall miss you oh too much. But I want to see regular postings about your adventures.

Best of luck

All my love and hugs

Cx

10:53 AM  
Blogger kingfelix said...

you're doing it again! tomorrow there will be my last irish post, this chapter is then closed. i can feel the new world calling and i have so many new things to encounter... i am already getting all hot inside.

xxxx

and farewell to europe. remember, if i do come back, it's greece, spain, portugal, or czech republic that will enjoy my patronage.

pinhut signing out! nanu nanu!

1:16 PM  

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