Friday, 19 September 2014

Resisting A Rest!... **BLOG POST**

At some point in our lives each of us will suffer from stress. Some more than others...and anyone who says they have never experienced stress...are either liars....or carriers!  I'd probably suggest the latter in most cases.

Given the nature of my numerous neuroses I practically live on a diet of fingernails and chocolate, spending each day with a brow so furrowed as to render me Klingon in appearance!

So on occasion, when nervous energy is spent, you'll find me flopped upon the couch trying to prise my clenched fists open, in an attempt to relax with a milky coffee and a Prozac sandwich.

But I don't always manage to achieve this state of reverie, as was the case the other day.  I'd barely un-knotted my eyebrows before the phone started ringing!

Some hysterical, hyperactive individual, with a voice not dissimilar to what I'd expect if you'd hand reared a chipmunk on a diet of helium and crack, squealed an enquiry as to my well-being, before assaulting my senses with a garbled mention of changing energy suppliers.

I listened politely for some time before interrupting his monologue by saying...

"Well this has been lovely...but now I need to go and spend some 'me time' ramming the fridge door into my head"...and thus we parted.

That over with, I settled down again and gradually, I could feel sleep creeping up on me...and if it hadn't been for the door bell ringing it would have caught up!

Wearing the twitch of discontentment I dragged my reluctant body up from the settee and opened the door to find a dreaded Jesus Preacher standing there, dressed like an auditionee for Men in Black, with his obligatory child accomplice!

These people must get to choose their own side-kick before they set off for a days worth of knocking on doors pissing people off!.

Sometimes it's a kid, sometimes there's a person in a wheel chair with them...and if they're REALLY going for the pity-party jugular...the kid will be in the wheelchair!

Still, on that particular day, for all I cared, he could have been accompanied by a choir of weeping orphans singing Old Shep, clutching tear soaked photos of their poor deceased mother, to their consumptive little chests ...I simply didn't care!...I was far too worn out and agitated to give a shite...and that's why I told him I was a Satanist.

These interruptions were really getting to me now and ruining the day. I was sick of the phone ringing...sick of the door bell constantly ringing...and then I was just sick.

I was about to attempt to lie on the couch again, when I heard something being pushed through my letter box. Instantly, the neurosis I carry which enjoys catastrophising every innocuous situation in my life kicked in, compelling me to run to the door in a bid to quickly assess whatever life threatening object had been thrust upon me!

It was a plastic bag with a note attached asking for clothing donations to help the starving.

Now I am not an unreasonable person and I applaud all of the charities for the work they do need to understand... I was on the edge of my wits here!...I'd been pushed to the limit!...and that's why I opened the front door to confront the startled guy who'd posted the bag by shouting at him...

"If they can fit into my clothes they're not effin' starving are they????"...and then I ran in...ashamed.

For the millionth time I returned to the sofa. I could feel myself drifting again...ahhh yessss...gently beginning to float upon a bubble of bliss...lids folding over sleepy red eyes...drool welling up in the corner of my gaping gob...and then the phone rang again!!!...

I jumped up and snatched it with the dexterity of a demonically possessed Ninja, with a temper to match!...

"Whatever you want to give me I don't effin' want it!" I bellowed

 "What I want you to do with whatever it is that you want to give me that I don't effin' want to stick it sideways up your mithering, intrusive, bug bearing arse. Do you think you could do that for me? Do you?"....

There was a slight pause, followed by...

"Well, I'll give it a go but one of the library books you've ordered is a hardback so there could be a bit of a struggle!"...

The most peaceful happening to follow that, was the small funeral I held in the garden for my library least one of us got to rest in peace!...

© Copyright Lynn Gerrard 2.8.2012

Thursday, 11 September 2014

Ranting an' Raging.... **BLOG POST**

Life found me wandering the streets at daft o'clock, the other morning, on my way to a hospital appointment. 

You see, I suffer from a chronic condition known as Premature Evacuation, whereby I am compelled to leave the house much earlier than necessary 'cos the fear of being late acts as an overly powerful laxative, the results of which can prove quite limiting to ones travels!!

Anyway, fancying a carefully timed coffee along the way, I was lured by a fluorescent 'Cafe Open' sign and, based upon this invite, made my move to enter. I'd barely put my toe beyond the open door when a disgruntled voice spat...

"We're not open yet" 

Honing in on the source of this melodious welcome, my eyes met with a face whose expression was as warming as a blast chiller and decorated with enough paint to suffocate a clown!!

"Erm...your sign says 'Open'...and your open door confirmed this!" I offered, with a raised challenging brow.

"Five more minutes yet" came the response, said through teeth gritted so violently I worried I'd suffer shrapnel from her fillings!

I quickly construed that the cause of her monosyllabic mumblings was partly due to the weight of her make-up having semi-paralysed her face and partly due to the fact that the enormous effort of dialogue was, obviously,  way beyond the limitations of her cognitive ability!

So, without wishing to complicate her day any further by putting more pressure on her brain cell to formulate a coherent sentence...I left her to enjoy the company of her mental void and continued on my way.

Well, things didn't go any better at the hospital. Without affording me any eye contact whatsoever the receptionist continuously botched my name and details up because she hadn't taken the time to read my particulars properly.

As a result she was looking at someone else's file...and she repeated this cock-up three effin' times with three different files belonging to three different people!...and all with the gaiety of a death row inmate.

Furthermore, behind the desk where she stood, in full view of the public, rested a notice taped to a computer which served to remind staff to 'Smile' at patients, especially when talking to them on the phone 'because they will hear it in your voice'.


It's worrying enough that it was deemed necessary to implement this 'Idiot's Guide To Common Decency' but knowing that the person dealing with me needed diagrams and maybe a DVD to demonstrate this complex soddin' tragic! 

Whilst I'm having this rant I'll tell you what else is pissing me off...

Why do we over-complicate things which are best understood in simple form?...

Some time ago, a colour coded weather warning system was introduced by the Met Office...

GREEN...No severe weather.

YELLOW...Be aware.

AMBER...Be prepared.

RED...Take action.

Is the weather forecast sponsored by Crayola?

What do you do if you're colour blind?

Wouldn't it be easier to ask a Sailor or a Shepherd?

Why are weather presenters so bloody patronising?

What happened to a succinct weather forecast which simply stated whether or not it was going to be a shitty day?

And what's going on with all these different titles to weight issues?

Obese...Super Obese...Morbidly Obese...Super Morbidly Obese...

An 'expert' even defined one group as being...'Extreme Super Morbidly Obese'...there's no need for this!!! It's almost encouraging people to upgrade!!...

Oh ok ok...I'll shut up now!! I could go on, but I'll save that for another time. You'll be glad to hear I've given myself a headache and nearly broken my typing finger through pummeling out my rage on the keyboard!

But then of course...I'm not called The Grumbling Gargoyle for nothing!!...

© Copyright Lynn Gerrard 2.8.2012

Wednesday, 10 September 2014


His words

Promised eternity

His touch

An assuring caress

But his soul

Belonged to

The devil

And his heart

Was a serpent's nest

Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard 2.8.2012