Vapourised YES! Gone NO!

It can feel very like a cut throat job i have to say.
all was proven so, as i spoke to the twin in London, on a crackly line - discovered to be a personal faulty new handset...hum, anyway, i turned around mid-sentence and cracked up, literally.
Bear in mind the twin takes a bit of time for such explosions to register in her brain.
I have discovered i need to wait a few seconds for a response.
In this instance it would have been anyone, manic laughing as in spontaneous when Ann is in the throes of woeful depression, crying et al would sound odd.
well what I was laughing did look strange indeed, very.
On the bathroom floor, imagine this please...one goes to the toilet...no maybe not..don't imagine that,no.
start again.
imagine, one goes to the bathroom and decides..yes..that sounds a bit better...to well step out...
and one does....leaving behind a cracking laugh result i have to add...
bad english there i was trying to work on the prose.
bad english again.
cutting to the chase, on the floor was a dead ringer of a reflection of legs plus the soles of boots, as in those uggy boots, i think they are called.
I had been to the toilet, decided to do two things at once and stepped out of pink velveteen trousers aka dunnes stores and out of my boots from the Sue Ryder charity shop, (yes i knew after wearing why they ended there,  they squeak every time you take a pace),
what was left on the floor looked like a crime scene without the body-vapourised leaving a creased shell of the lower body parts covering.

One is easily amused these days.
the shot gun election isn't so amusing i have to say.
would i bother?
not any more.
Not so shot gun but surely the gov and brovs have really shot those who have had their disability slashed twice in the last two budgets and the crummies get off relieved and sweating with a nice fat paw.
But will any ever open an Irish newspaper again.
I doubt it.
I have taken a lot in the last 58yrs of life, defo.
I have survived, just about.
Really.
I did survive, my days were equal to the jungle survival game, but it wasn;t no game.
I would not, nor could not survive a caricature of self splashed with all my blemishes embellished for all to see, zillions to see, daily and thereafter.

If that is vain, so be it.  I am vain...to the extent that embarrassment does not wash well with me at all.
ask anyone.
especially doctors.
what they get in return for 'rubbishing me' is too inflammatory to repeat!
well, no I tell the truth, so i am saved.
thats why i am still alive and the gov and brov will not be, shortly.
and they will never open an Irish Times again or the Sun, nor the Tribune (well, no, not the Tribune, thats gone under...not talking of Australia either here), our young people have gone there as a tribute to what they think of our gov and brovs.
and there was a queue outside the American Embassy this morning on my way into the dental hospital.
which is worse?
the queue.
It was the very first time that place was actually FUN.
why?
It was heavily planned right down to the seat, (no, not toilet seat this time).
I placed my red wheelchair, plus cushions into the van.  The red walking stick, a bag, a camera, a banana.  check out the pic on my facebook page please and note it was not this banana!
I got into the van, the teeth were taken out around Frescati, of my dear fathers family home and placed in the glove compartment.  thats where they usually travel anyway.
so gummy and self concious (that would be a blemish embellished if ever a chance was taken), i travelled onwards.
I walked the wheelchair, one must keep up the legs, so they say, to the coffee shop and got a Latte and walked back pushing the wheelchair towards the glassed entrance, electrified near the back end of trinity (no pun) college.
On arrival i made myself known to reception.
its hot up there, very.
i decide as well planned this and from experience to sit it out in the massive entrance area so i wheel the wheelchair back  there.  I put on the breaks and suddenly see Prof. Nunn rushing toward her work station.
Awynah, you sitting here?
Yes?
Its cold here, no?
Yes!
You'll get cold?
NO!
No, i love cold i really do, 'cold.' in a big way.
me temp controls are way off these days.
I sit and push with the arms, not madly just gently, floating around, coffee wedged between the knees, thats easy and look.
i find some nice abstract structural shapes, and the usual spiky plant from the tropics, same one in Beaumont Hospital, they must all get a job lot on these.
so i see there is a floating sculpture hanging along the inside of the glassed roof, ah, that look good, i say to myself.
Not quite after a few 'takes,' I forgot what Mags B taught me on the difficulty of taking two contrasting tones, strong sunlight, dark walls.
after a few takes, i am crunching and sweating, literally.
its damn hard to crane a neck, try it, if its arthritic.
it crunches alarmingly, but what will you do for art?
no, not again, this time.  I wont hang the neck around a wheelchair, upside down, looking up at a bloody funny sculpture floating along a transparent glassed roof.
I move off. I place the coffee down on the floor by the skirting board when i drift off again.
amazing, not a soul did i see.
Brill!
I am not that great with the human species anymore, i get these very uncomfortable stares, hence the camera came with me this time.
i see the coffee container makes a nice composition by a triangular piece of artwork that is pointing right down to the lonely mug on the ground.
snap.
i move again.
i catch a woman running across the road, bloody stupid woman, but she was in red!
red is a great colour to catch when you have a monochrome view, and i had a very one.
she could have got killed, anyone could have.
why did she chose that very spot?
right on the swing around by Lincoln's gate.
she was a dead ringer for a smash-in all in red and i would have had it on camera.
well i did get her, on camera legging it.
great shot!
the dentistry proved good as well.
the dentures got relined as i watched the dental nurse at play time with her playdoh.  I asked her with muffled language, 'how many times do you get to play in a day?"
without an answer i turn to me beautiful woman in her headscarf.  I was actually thrilled to see her, i thought she had gone back to Oman.
nope she had to stay - for me!
nah, she still a student, but a great one, she pulled the teeth too.
'dont you let this damn thing weld to the roof of me mouth!'
again muffled.
I turned to the dental nurse still playing with pink stuff, and she was smiling roguishly, 'Ah,' i say, "Thats why you are playing with that stuff, eh?"
"hum ha." or something like that. meaning yes.
she waits, and works the pink stuff.
so that when its getting stiffer she nods to my dark tropical woman and gives that look which says 'take it out, now.'
so playing is part of the game here.
the teeth were now snug indeed after she had trimmed the playdoh away from the back rim, half way down my throat.
I scratch the rest off with a finger whilst waiting for a print-out for the next appointment.
knees clamped around the red stick, i foolishly felt this would only take a sec.
it didn;t, the printer was broken, a bit like the x-ray machine in St. Michaels the other day. (i go to too many hospitals).
and there was my red wheelchair, mid corridor with the plastic bag on back, opened for all to see, an expensive camera and a welcoming handbag, no baby in this but my visa card.
so the knees were welded as i try to stay vertical, my fingers are stuck in my mouth scratching away playdoh that was left behind on my false palette of my false teeth.
I drove home.
Teeth in, bye bye to the man at the back gates of trinity college who knows me well by now.
and someone else who knew me well today later, the parking ticket guy.
my PA ran, not elegantly to try stop him put a ticket on her car.
then the parking man saw me limp after on two sticks.
'Ah, yes, i know you, its ok, its all ok."
"Yes Mary, he knows me! Everyone bloody does, for foolishness, loudness or a flowery grey van!
but i am known.
and i wasn't even in my own town but the one next door to it...darn...i am embarrassed.