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Papa's got a brand new bag...

Words from a Bird.  Day 48

So the Semtex continued to blow, as we sat down to watch The Expendables last night.  (My mum was pulling rank with her choice, and having mentioned it on Saturday night, this film was obviously playing on her mind).  'Oh look, it's Chuck!'  she said all of a sudden.  There I was , searching the screen frantically for a wiry rock and roll singer clutching his Ding-a-ling, when she, on sensing my confusion, said, 'Norris, not Berry'.  All made sense after that...

Actually, this film was slightly better than the uber violent offering from the night before, as it was meant to be funny.  Humour is very personal though, and I did find that I was laughing 'at' rather than 'with' them.  Arnie, Bruce, Dolph, Sly and Vin are so old now, that they are not so much the A Team, as the O'A'P Team.  More expended than expendable even... 

It's my choice of film tonight which is a huge responsibility.  I am swaying between Sleepless in Seattle or 10 Things I Hate about You.  Neither of these films has the noise element of my mum's choices, so I would imagine that there will be nothing to stop her and the younger half from dropping off about 10 minutes in.

I have realised that I could get used to living with my mum.  Tea in bed every morning, and regular admonitions of 'Put that down', 'Don't lift that', 'I can do that', or simply, 'Richard, tell her....' are meaning that my life here is very chilled, which is the main objective where rib repair is concerned.

The hardest jobs undertaken by me so far have included:
1. Squeezing my own tea bag
2. Wiping one half of the work top (mum snatched the dishcloth off me before I could complete this)
3. Removing the meat from a chicken leg (since then, I have noticed that my food is being served in bite-size pieces, my knife now fully redundant.
4. Washing my mug up.  I have been banned from the dishwasher, although this could be because I mix up all the cutlery in the basket, which doesn't sit well with my mum's OCD.

Recovery is going well though, and the chance that I might be able to get behind the wheel on Friday is quite exciting.  Once home again though, I might eke out the recovery a little longer, demanding that I have my teabags squeezed by the husband.

Mind you, that's open to all kind of misinterpretation.....

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