Grannymar

Sitting on the grass with a three year old, watching their eyes filled with the wonder of the world about them.

Picking daisies and buttercups, blowing bubbles and watching them drift skyward.
Attention suddenly taken by a butterfly, wings full stretch in the sunshine
Returning to explore my face with gentle touch before rolling in the grass with tickles and giggles.

Walking on a beach with an eight year old, listening to their constant chatter as we…..

Paddle, squealing & jumping up and down in the cold lazy lapping waves.
Gathering shells, running from one cluster to another to find new treasure
Flying a kite, mastering the take off and feeling the tug as it soars to float on the current of air way above us.

Skipping through rustling leaves of an autumn dressed wood with a teenager, suddenly free to drop the weight and angst of their age to become a child again for the duration

Exploring an untrodden path,
Scrambling over tree roots and listening to the un-silent silence of nature
Watching a squirrel disappear up a tree
Swinging from a branch
Sitting on a log solving the problems of age, parents and the world
Heading home hungry with the glow of fresh air on their faces

Giggling with the girls over a bottle of wine and nibbles as they tell me about

The day just gone, the promotion that will be announced the next day
The new dress or shoes in mind to buy tomorrow
The new beau in their lives and what makes him special
Ask my advice on this that or the other
Before testing the latest make up on my poor old face

Chatting in a one to one with a stranger who has the years of experience etched on their face, a twinkle in their eye and the interest to peel back the pages of their life and share the stories with me.

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Our topic this week My idea of fun was tossed into the ring by the playful Padmini.
Now skip on over to see what the available active members have to tell us about their idea of fun: Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Maria SilverFox Magpie 11, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, The Old Fossil, Will Knott.

At 4am this morning I wrote the previous little ditty then sleep finally came.

I woke to wonderful news.

I said  I woke to WONDERFUL NEWS!

Ashok, all the way over in Bangalore and one of the four original members of the LBC, is about to hit be Called to the Bar. In my mind he is another Brian in the making. The results of his Bar Exams are through…. and well worth shouting about:-

94 out of a possible 100

I never in all my life managed to achieve marks like that.

I am so delighted that I will dance about today as if the ground was a trampoline.

Congratulations young man!

I needed advice. Solid sensible advice.  Where to go?

I decided to call with David, a no-nonsense straight as a die guy.

There was no sign of him in the garden, but the car in the open garage told me he was at home. So I rang the door bell.  Lady D opened the door on the first ding dong.

“I don’t want you!  It is him I am looking for” I said with laughter in my voice.

“He is not here.” she said with a straight face, hesitating long enough for the smile to curl her mouth upwards. “Come on, he is round in the workshop”!

She knew me well, we walked round to the workshop at the back of the garage.  As soon as the door opened, there was a squeal of delight and his arms opened wide to engulf me in a hug. A good honest to god hug.

We stood like that talking for a few minutes while lady D stood by.  Released from the grip, we talked some more, and the arms were again wrapped around me. We progressed through all the news… each item punctuated by another hug.

“Will you go easy! Your poor wife, standing there looking at us. Anyone would think I was hot stuff.”

“Sure. You are hot stuff” laughed the Boyo.

“Give me your hand and I will prove how hot I am!”

David’s hand lifted, then paused in mid air.

“Just give me your hand, I won’t bite you.” I said with a twinkle.

I took the outstretched hand and touched the top of my thigh with it.

“Ye, Ye…. You really are hot.” He stuttered.

I turned to Lady D and said “I suppose you better have a feel too.”

There was no hesitation…. and she agreed, I was certainly hot stuff.

WAIT. ONE. MINUTE.

You lot in the back row, take your grubby minds out of the gutter. I am a decent Irish widow woman with not a smutty bone in my body.  If you sit down nice and quiet I will explain….

Now, unlike Timothy Dan*, I only had one item in my pocket.  I removed it slowly to show my friends. It was warm and stiff. (Red Top, put down that glass before you choke on it!)

I suppose you want to see what it was.

It was one of these.

A Gel Hand-warmer.

As you often hear me say, I am a cold creature.  Since I had my hip replaced a few years ago, going out in the cold has become bad news for me. My right leg feels like I left it in the freezer overnight and forgot to remove it.

In Ireland we have several types of cold weather. Arctic ice and snow with below freezing temperatures, like last winter. Dry East winds that blow in from the Russian Steppes to cut right through you, and then there is the damp cold that soaks into your bones like water to a sponge. It does not cause rheumatism, but it certainly does not help aching bones.

The hand warmers are sold in packs of two and are filled with a clear coloured liquid  and a little metal disk in each. Once you wiggle the disk the pack begins to heat up and become cloudy.  They were sold to be used for warming the hands, and the leaflet says they stay warm for an hour.  A little large to fit inside a pair of my gloves, I relegated them to a drawer. This year I reinstated them to a ‘must have’ when going outdoors.

When I am ready to leave the house I click the little disk and put the warmer straight into my trouser pocket next to my metal hip.  The heat transfers through the bone to the metal and I am very comfortable. Both my metal hip and the gel pack stay warm for about four hours.

Above is the used, now cold hand warmer. Stiff and cloudy.  It is easy enough to return it to the original state.

Set it in the middle of an old face flannel and gather up the corners. Put it into a sauce pan, making sure the cloth shields the plastic from the sides and bottom of the pan.

Cover with cold water and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and keep on a simmer until the liquid is clear once more.  Make sure it is completely clear. Then remove and set on a dry towel to cool.  Looked after properly, they can be used over and over again.

*Timothy Dan

Timothy Dan
was a funny wee man
He kept all of his wealth in his pockets
Two buttons, A box, the keys of two clocks
and the chain of his grandmother Margret’s locket.

A big piece if string
a most useful thing
A watch without hands and a few rubber bands,
A broken down penknife with only one blade
and a little toy boat that his grandfather made.

You’d never believe
Hearing such a long list
That there’s room in each pocket for one little fist
and you’d believe that the smallest of boys
could carry so much in his wee corduroys.

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The topic Wait was chosen by me today.

Now empty your pockets before you head on over to see what the available active members have to say  Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Maria SilverFox Magpie 11, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, The Old Fossil, Will Knott.

May I be the first to welcome back The Old Fossil, an old member of our fold of Loose Bloggers.  The term ‘Loose’ allows for members to drift off (as many have) when issues of family, health, love, work or ailing computers require extra attention.

Tee O, Foss, Old Foss or TOF (you have more handles than Ganesha has hands!),  may your words run free bringing fun and wisdom for all of us to share.

Our topic this week, chosen for us by Ramana is:

Perceptions

When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. ~ Mark Twain

Granny Biscuits ran a corner shop. It was the gift she longed for, and received from her new husband to mark her marriage in 1909. She continued to work in the shop for thirty eight years. The hours were long and the days busy. Unlocking the door well before 7 a.m. in order to catch and serve the men folk on their way to work in W.D. & H.O. Wills, a tobacco importer and cigarette manufacturer, Jameson’s Whiskey Distillery, Guinness Brewery or Jacob’s Biscuit Factory.

The purchases were regular and Granny Biscuits soon knew who wanted a newspaper a packet of Gold Flake or Woodbines. She was first to hear the local news of hatches and dispatches from the night just passed. Each hour had regulars, right through to closing time at 10 p.m. Quite often there were knocks to the door after business hours if a family ran short or unexpected visitors arrived.

There was Thomas who only came to the shop after hours, he was quiet and shy and as regular as the local church bell. The list never varied, so in a quiet moment at tea time Granny B weighed the butter, sugar, and potatoes before putting them with the other items in a box under the counter. It saved time and pleased the silent shopper. Thomas paid up front, there was no need for tick. How he earned his money or spent his time was never discussed or known.

Johnnie on the other hand was well known in the neighbourhood, if only for the fact he carried his violin case everywhere. He would duck into the shop when there was nobody about. Once the groceries were weighed and wrapped Johnnie would put the violin case on the counter, open it and set in the various items. Going out through the door he carried the case like it contained a Stradivarius and whistled his way home once more.

Mary was four foot nothing and neat as a new pin. She was a good baker in her day, but her family were all away – three to America and two to London and she was resigned to the fact they might never return. The hat that she always wore hid large areas of alopecia areata. Now a widow with no pension, the letters from America were important to help pay the bills. If the post was slow, the groceries were listed in the book and bill would sit until the dollars came.

Noisy Nelly never liked to wait. She bustled in as if the whole world depended on her, her ample bosoms edged other customers out of the way. She never bought more than a couple of items. The regulars let her away with it, they were glad to see her go and return to their chat. Noisy Nelly became a mouse once inside her own door, her husband lashed out not alone with him tongue but with arms and feet when he was upset, it didn’t take much.

Granny Biscuits knew all the names and back stories and kept them close to her chest. She had a generous heart for her hard working husband, seven children, friends and customers.

Years later she was blessed to see another generation with her 28 grandchildren. The early children visited the shop and a treat was to select a biscuit from the large glass topped Jacob’s tins. They called her Granny Biscuits and the name stuck.

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Run along to see the other treats available today from our active members: Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Magpie 11, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, The Old Fossil, Will Knott.

Maria SilverFox may not join us this week as her computer is away for repairs.

Would you like some Ice?

Following the 7th July 2005 London bombings, the Emergency Services found mobile/cell phones in pockets or lying around amongst the carnage with no idea of the holders name. Unfortunately some of the phones were all that remained. Some of these phones were used in order to discover the identity of some of the victims. Not an easy task.

I bet you have at least one mobile/cell phone.

Let us play a little game….

Imagine for a moment that you have… collapsed in the street/fallen under a bus/are in the middle of an explosion…

You are unable to help the Emergency Services with your identity or tell them who is your next of Kin.  What to do? Would scrolling through the phone book on your Mobile/cell phone help find out?

Is it John, Maisie, Puff Bunny or Mum?

John might be the guy you picked up met at the nightclub last night, Maisie the little old lady you visit once a week because she lives alone, Mum (91) half gaga and well… Puff Bunny says it all!

Can you imagine getting a call asking “Do you know the owner of this phone”?

“Yes!”

“Well now, I am sorry to tell you, S/he is under the Doctor (Northern Ireland speak for being ill) at St Methuselah’s Hospital/Hire a crane she is under a bus/bring a holdall, the bits are at the morgue!

At the back of a Passport is a space for the name and address of our next of Kin, why not the same in our phones?

This is where Ice Numbers come in.

In Case of Emergency

I use two ICE numbers, just in case the first person is not available or out of the country. Both are filled in in the same format.

Sample:

First name: ICE 1 Milly
Last Name: MacAdoo (daughter) -  follow up with the number in the usual way.

I am fortunate that this information is visible on the display screen of my mobile phone, so there is no waste of time searching.

Do think about it…. do something about it…. NOW.

The person you pick needs to be calm and sensible, know you, and be able to say if you have particular ailments e.g. heart problems, diabetes or allergies.  While you are at it, do the same with all mobiles in your household - children’s phones included.

It might save a life!

Simple?

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The topic Simplicity was set for us by Conrad, who unfortunately has had to step back from blogging for the foreseeable future.  Conrad we will miss your regular contribution and wish you well in all your endeavours.  I know you will visit and comment whenever possible.

Now hop along to see what our active members are offering today: Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Magpie 11, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, Will Knott.

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This subject is revisited from an old blog post of mine from 2006.  Worth repeating.

It was almost time. He sat at the steering wheel slowly smoking a cigarette, he knew the car he was waiting for.  Any minute now it would appear around the corner and drive slowly into the reserved space.

There it was. Right on the button.  Stubbing out his cigarette he had time to lock his car and walk the few paces for the quiet chat. It was a short conversation, an exchange of concerns and re assurances before the men parted, Mr K to enter the building while the other returned to his vehicle to await the outcome.

It was about 45 to 50 minutes before he heard a gentle footfall approach the car.  The young woman looked less anxious as she slid into the passenger seat beside him.  Calmly she told him that arrangements were set in place for the next afternoon.  He relaxed, turned the key in the ignition and headed cross country.  They spoke little, both had their minds fixed on the next day and how it would change their lives.

The next afternoon they were back in the same car park.  This time they walked hand in hand while he carried a small holdall. Their thoughts were a mixture of apprehension, excitement and concern for each other.  There would be tests in the next few days, to be sure she was ready and remove all fear of unknown problems arising.

Over the next couple of days the clock seemed to stand still, yet there was a routine that she quickly settled into. Meals filled the body and time, the food was unmemorable but she discovered Veda bread for the very first time, there was one slice each for those round the table to finish up the evening meal with butter or jam. It was a pleasure that would stay with her all her life.

Soon it was Saturday and she had work to do.

They came for her about 9.30.  When she entered the room Mr K was waiting. At this stage they talked as friends although she had only known him a matter of months. He spoke with great respect for her husband, they had known each other for many years. In the past they shared great sadness, and he hoped today would turn that corner and draw a curtain on the past for both of them.

Meanwhile at Wembley Stadium Arsenal and Ipswich Town were nearing the close of the FA Cup Final.    At 4.25pm Ipswich scored the only goal of the match and the crowd let up a roar of delight. He stood up, crossed the room and turned off the television.  “Time to go” he said to the cushions and he picked up the keys, looked around, and then headed for the door.

As that Roar went up at the match, there was another cry that gave delight. It was the sound of lungs expanding to announce the arrival into this world of a young lady.

Mr K who was present throughout the natural delivery checked her quickly, pronounced her perfect, and with tears running down his face he handed her to me. He could not have been more pleased than if it had been his own child.

Holding my daughter close to my chest my heart almost burst with joy.  This little bundle in my arms was ‘the spit’ of her dad, a miniature version of Jack.  The conversation with Elly began, we were in a world of our own, unaware of the needlework going on at the other end of the table.

Once Mr K was finished, Elly was taken to be cleaned up, weighed and have a name bracelet fitted.  Mr K informed not alone me, but all the staff that he was to be notified as soon as Jack arrived at the hospital.  He wanted to pass on his own congratulations.

I was wheeled to my new home for the remainder of my ten day stay. Heads lifted from the other beds and I was greeted with a chorus of “What did you get?” Cringing inside (anyone would think I had bought a penny lucky bag!) I announced to all that I had a beautiful daughter.

So while I was settling in with the hospital cure-all, a cup of tea, Jack was trundling over the hill anxious to find out our news.  Although at an age where his peers were becoming grandfathers, the world of babies was new to him.

He was an only child, had two childless marriages, both having ended with the long slow hopeless and painful journey through the curse that cancer was back then.  Mr K had been the Consultant on both occasions.

On entry to the hospital, Jack asked the first person in uniform if there was any news of his wife.  Thanks to Mr K, everyone was on alert for his arrival.

“You have a beautiful daughter, come and meet her”!

Within seconds, or so it seemed to him a bundle was thrust into his arms.  He didn’t know how to hold a baby. He worried he would let her fall. He worried he might break her if he held her tight.  Then he actually found her little face and his tears came… this tiny bundle looked like his adored late mother, Clara.

I had the joy of giving birth.

I had the joy of giving Jack the one gift he didn’t have – His own baby.

We had the joy of giving Elly life.

We had the joy of giving Elly to the world.

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It was Rohit who had the joy of suggesting our topic for this week. The joy of giving. I do hope he will be available to join in the sport of writing about it. Now joyfully skip along to see what gifts the active members have in store today:- Conrad, Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Magpie 11, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, Will Knott.

It is all water under the bridge now, it might well have gone down the loo, but it didn’t! We had loo paper coming out our ears! It stretched from California round to India and back to Europe.

Bikehikebabe said something the other night that brought it to mind and took me on the voyage down memory lane. I was back at the flourishing of a love affair….

You know the feeling well.

The first tentative steps into the room and the warm glow as you join the party.

Smoothly becoming part of the play or conversation, bantering with each other, all the while learning and discovering what makes each other tick.

That must have been how he felt.

He wanted the party to continue.

He wanted the relationship to deepen and grow.

To become a family and in the fullness of time develop our creativity.

We became that family.

With time we increased in number.

We watched each character blossom, but over time some reached a fork in the road of their lives, and for a while have taken that other route.  They are not forgotten.

As with all families, the travellers are remembered and missed, but the gap at the party was filled with new blood. We still share the stories and songs of our heart. We share tears, concern, hope, laughter and love.

We are a family.

We are the Loose Bloggers Consortium.

“The value of life can be measured by how many times your soul has been deeply stirred” (Saichiro Honda).

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It was Paul who travelled all the way from Blackwatertown to place this topic before us today.  Do you think he is gathering our dust to use in his next venture - A Romantic Novel?

Rediscovery – rediscovered loves/pleasures?

Time to dander round the room and join in rediscovering the loves or pleasures of: Conrad, Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Magpie 11, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, Will Knott.

We swiftly fly down to begin a new year for the LBC at the behest of Magpie 11, to twitter, sing and share our thoughts on the topic of:

Birds of the Air

Seagulls… slim yachts of the element.
~ Robinson Jeffers

There are over 9,200 species of birds known from around the world and they can be found in just about every habitat.

Over 1000 birds a year die from smashing into windows.

The retina of a bird’s eye is twice as thick as a man’s.

Some bird’s feathers weigh more than its very lightweight but strong skeleton of hollow bones, which make flying easier.

A hummingbird weighs less than a penny and its heart beats 1,260 times per minute.

Only male canaries can sing.

The owl can rotate its head by 180 degrees on either side.
It is the only bird to drop its upper eyelid to wink. All other birds raise their lower eyelids.

The world’s fastest flying bird is the peregrine Falcon which can swoop on its prey at speeds of up to 350 km per hour.

An eagle can kill a young deer and fly away with it.

There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man
than the way in which they can build and yet
leave a landscape as it was before.
~ Robert Lynd, The Blue Lion and Other Essays

Time now fly over and check out what the other active members of the Loose Bloggers Consortium have to say on the subject:- Conrad, Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Magpie 11, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, Will Knott.

The topic for the final outing of the Loose Bloggers Consortium in 2011 was chosen by Will.

Ideas

Back in January 2009 I was complaining about the hike in heating oil prices. At that time they ranged between £311.00 to £349.65 for 900 Litres.  Fiddlesticks. What was I complaining about?  Right now we are talking £527.00 to £554.44 for 900 Litres. Pay by credit card and that lower price jumps to £534.90.  Many of the lower priced companies do not deliver to my area.

Back in that post I sought suggestions about how to raise the funds for oil.  I even contemplated sending my Art work to Sotherby’s.

My online friends were quick to offer their advice.

Magpie 11 said

“I think we should appeal to the nations so that it can be kept in its place…..I mean to say it’s a lot newer than those ones from the Bridgewater connection…they’re about 400 years old aren’t they? We cannot let art like that go abroad……..I’m rather impressed that one so young should have been aware of sunspots.”

Nick said

“Goodness, I hope it’s well insured. Such consummate brushwork and flawless composition will push it over the £million mark straightaway.”

kenju said

“How could you even think of selling such great art!!?? Better to freeze and keep it, I think.”

With advice like that, I decided that I should sleep on the idea for a week or two, before parting with my special art treasure.

I am so glad I listened.  Sometimes fools rush in where…. etc etc!

Now sit down and pay attention!

With the magic and wonder of Christmas, my art came to life!  I mean it. No. I have not been over indulging on the Vino & Gin, or hallucinating. The proof is here:

Photo by Elly

I need to take you back to last September, I was having a Chat with Elly

E: you know those drawings of mine as a child where they have no arms?
GM: yes, one drawing of our family
E: yeah, do you have a copy of it around?
GM: real or on my computer? I have both
E: a scan is fine was trying to describe it to Sue, easier to show her
GM: want it today?
E: if it suits, no rush
GM: grand
E: thx
GM: try here
E: excellent, I thought it was on the blog somewhere, but I couldn’t find it.
GM: Looking at that ‘artwork’ again… you were meticulous in your detail. The left leg of Jack’s trousers was shorter than the right!!
E: lol

My Elly had something up her sleeve and was planning and plotting unbeknownst to me. That angelic Sue was in on it too, and never breathed a word to me!

Somewhere on the ‘net’ Elly came across this little snippet:

“The child’s drawing, a wonderful expression of childhood, is the starting point of the collaborative project. Details and colour choices are reproduced as closely as possible so that the stuffed toy that arrives in the mail is immediately recognizable to the child who designed it. It’s a fun, rewarding process, and kids love seeing their drawings come alive.”

Thus began another conversation

E: Hiya, I just found out about the toys that you make, and I was wondering if you would ship to Ireland? I realise that it would cost extra. Attached is the picture I would be hoping to recreate in 3 toys…..

W: Thank you for your enquiry.
Are they wearing earmuffs?  I would charge…..  If you are interested, just let me know, thanks for your interest in Child’s Own Studio
Wendy

E: No I think they are ears, not earmuffs - although it’s nearly 2 decades since I drew it, so I’m not 100% sure!
My Dad was older than my mum, so his hair is grey (I don’t think I had a grey pen). He also had a war wound, so one of his legs should be slightly shorter than the other (mum always commented on how accurate that part of the drawing was). I never drew arms as a child, and when mum asked why I always said that their hands were behind their backs; so being that these will be 3D, I would love to put the arms on so that they are only visible from the back. I’d like to go ahead with the order please.

Dolls with hands behind their backs

There were more questions and answers along the way….

“How much shorter was his leg, I’m curious.  I like these drawings and your description; I’m looking forward to working on them. How old were you when you drew this picture”?

“Dad was injured in WWII. His leg would only have been fractionally shorter in real life, maybe a centimetre or two.
I was 5 when I drew the picture (my drawing skills haven’t improved much since either!).”

Elly;s Dad was injured in WWII and they used bone from his hip to re-sculpt his thigh bone. Due to being in plaster (from chest to ankle) for 14 months, he was unable to bend his left knee after this, but taught himself to walk & drive again. His left leg would only have been 1 inch shorter and he mastered the limp by taking a full stride followed by a half one on the injured leg.

W: I’m working on your dolls right now, and I have a couple of questions for you:
1) In your drawing, the child’s (your) hair looks reddish.  Shall I stay close to the colour or do you prefer light brown?
2) Your father’s shoes/feet weren’t coloured in…What colour should I make them…red? white? black?

E: Light Brown for my hair and black for Dad’s shoes please. He was a demon for polishing them all the time.

W: Well, he was in the military…

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So on Christmas Eve I was gob-smacked.  Not alone had I Elly, George and Miss Buffy for the day, I had this precious unique gift, I heard the fascinating background story of how it came about

Proof after all these years!

Then I was introduced to:

If you know Eleanor, don’t tell her mother about her Christmas gift.

Elly takes after her dad - look at her legs!!

How many of you have drawings or paintings by your children or grandchildren stuck on the fridge right now? Maybe they are stored in a box in the loft?

What a great idea to bring them to life.

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Time now to go check out what ideas the other active members of the Loose Bloggers Consortium have for us to close out the year:- Conrad, Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Magpie 11, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul,Ramana, Rohit, Will Knott.

Padmini in her wisdom had the choosing of our topic for today

Hospitals or Doctors

I sat on the doctor’s knee so he could examine me.  His desk was dark and solid as a rock.  His routine never changed. He smoothly slid open the top right hand drawer, it was a very deliberate move. There were several bundles neatly arranged in that space but one half was given over to an open box… He knew I saw the box and would do whatever he asked….

He began with the bundle beside the open box…

We called them the lollipop sticks, one was given to me to look inside his mouth before he prompted me to “Open wide!”  He flattened my tongue and had a good look around, then it was “Say Ahhh!” as he looked deeper into the space. Saying ‘Ahhh!’ while being very conscious of the tickling hairs on his index finger touching my face, always made me feel like laughing.

I stood between his knees and could feel his soft warm exhaled breath on my cheeks as he checked my ears.

We played a game or two.  He helped to remove my cardigan, then gently opened the buttons on my blouse while I chatted away telling him the news of the day.

Then the stethoscope came into centre stage, first the earpieces were put to my ears so I could hear his beating heart.  One day I told him he had no heart, but he insisted I keep trying until I found it.  Thankfully I did find a heart beating steadily away, allowing him to turn the attention to me.  He listened to my heart, my lungs, asked me to cough and again cough once more, before smiling and setting the stethoscope down on the desk.

There were questions asked and answers given, promises made and soon it was time for The Box!

The box contained the biggest most colourful hand-made sweets you ever saw.  I was allowed choose one for my mouth and one for each hand.

Mammy never had any problem bring us to see Dr Kidney!

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Now off you go to check the pills and potions of the other Loose Blogging Consortium active members:- Conrad, Delirious, Maria/Gaelikaa, Magpie 11, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit, WillKnott.