Day to day musings of a cat minder/ sitter in North Tyneside and Newcastle upon Tyne . For details of services go to http://www.catminders.biz

Welcome to CatMinders

Welcome to CatMinders

Monday, 31 August 2009

All my best friends are Zombies?

Whilst at the hairdresser last week I lay back and tried hard to relax in the washing chair . This was always the best bit . Hairdressing and Shiatsu seemed to have formed a gentle alliance and I was accustomed to a solidly built and competent young woman who would tuck my head under her arm , sweep soothing drafts of soft warm water over me in tune to fine music , encourage me to close my eyes while she kneeded and massaged my scalp and neck . The shampoo smelled of oranges and the conditioning treatments were rich and luxurious. I would drift in and out , occasionally glancing at the world of hairdressing , the twinkling lights , the beautiful people and their shiny faces and perfect hair as I slid in and out of consciousness. What more could you ask ?

For nothing to change , really , is all .
For change it did .
At my last appointment I was allocated the trainee washing person , a delightful smiling young woman . I slipped into the chair fully expecting my usual fifteen minutes of rest and recuperation and bang , the shower spray slipped and clouted me over the eye ! No serious injuries but I was quite wet . Not a good start .
I felt myself slide lower in the chair in a vague attempt to escape as the water temperature began to creep up , and up , and up and .... it stabilised just as my face began to boil .... oops there goes that spray again , spouting water in an arc to the ceiling . As is my wont I start to feel hysteria rising in the form of giggles and I feel embarrased though I am not sure whether it is for myself in my soaking state or for the young woman who clearly has no idea of the mayhem she is causing .
Before we are done I have lost an ear ring and it is not only my bra that is wet through but God help us my knickers too ( how did she do that ? ) .
I am relieved that she is oblivious , as my desire to laugh hysterically is very close to the surface . Ms CatCalls becomes Ms Rather- Wet- Tee -Shirt.

This time I groan inwardly as she approaches me with the gown and two towels . I wonder about asking if I could have a plastic sheet or two but think this would be unkind . Perhaps she will have been on a course? Perhaps that was her first week ? I am sure if I was to wash her hair I would make a complete pig's ear of it too ? Now there' s a thought?

Things are slightly better ( just my bra gets it this week ) but I am still somewhat anxious as I lean back in the chair and I find myself glancing from side to side , again rather peculiarly hoping my public humiliation is not being witnessed .
In front of me the two young men are snipping hair with great aplomb , merrily chatting to their customers . I watch idly reflecting on how happy they look, how animated.
One of them is wearing a tee shirt with a slogan on it and I crane my neck to read it . I feel like my Great Auntie Gertie trying to get a look at the slogan on my sweatshirt or some such when I was a child and screwing her face up with the effort .
I seem to be positioned upside down somehow and it takes a while before I can figure it out ..... it seems to say " All my best friends are zombies " .
I consider this for a while . Mm . I feel I may want to suck my teeth and think on this and eventually it may mean something or make some sense . Am I getting old or something?
I consider texting Nat , far away in Plymouth and seeing what she says about it . But I don't want to lose face with her either . Perhaps I should just let it go .

Later , reading a Margaret Forster novel "Mothers' Boys " it occurs to me that never in hospital have I been offered a sleeping tablet .
I was first on a hospital ward at the age of seventeen , and as the nurses approached with the medicine trolley in the evening , I saw that they offered every single other woman on the ward a sleeping tablet . Many of the patients were elderly , granted , but not all . I formed an opinion at that age that women in Britain took tablets to help them sleep . I wondered whether they would ask me if I wanted one, and was mystified when they passed me by , though I was given a pain killer .
Years later , this experience was repeated several times.
Ward rounds. Medicine trolleys .
Every single other woman on a ward given a sleeping tablet . Did they offer me one ? Never ? How did they know I have never taken one ?
So what was it about me , at all those different ages , 17 , 30 something , 40 something , whatever , that said to them , here is a woman that doesn't take sleeping tablets when every single other woman on this ward does/ will ? I find that odd , and wonder if it somehow connects to the tee shirt " All my best friends are zombies " .

3 comments:

BetteJo said...

Oh my goodness your thought process is so different than most - and quite entertaining!

Silliyak said...

You probably look too young or too together to need sleep aids. Or you look like you're already asleep!

MsCatCalls said...

Or like all my best friends are Zombies I suppose?

Migraine Days

Migraine Days

Flower and Bee on a Sunday

Flower and Bee on a Sunday

art on a sunday

art on a sunday