The aggravations are coming thick and fast, like tennis balls being fired out of one of those serving machines set on 'bombard'. Had to take my ten-year-old out of school on Thursday - he was headachy and nauseous. On Thursday night he had a slight fever and developed a rash. Mr Bingells took his temperature and fired off questions at me about normal body temperature, whilst I tried to help Master 13 with his Maths homework. Don't worry, it was copying and pasting a picture of the Tower of Hanoi for his project in Maths - not actually working out problems. Trust me, I suck big time at most mathematical applications. When I launched 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth' (http://www.zeus-publications.com/silver_studs_and_sabre_teeth.htm) in May, it was he who worked out the change for the buyers who handed over the fifty dollar notes! Master 10 stood on the other side of me trying to filch fifties out of the cash box.
Friday morning, and Master Ten had even more spots. Mr Bingells had to go on a bus trip with pensioners (he might have to drive them in future and needed to familiarise himself with the bus route), so I cancelled my shift and took my spotty little man to the doctor. At the doc's request, he removed his shirt in order for the doctor to have a better look at his spots. My pointed to one of his nipples, and helpfully informed the doctor, 'This isn't one of the spots.' His vaccinations are up to date, so I didn't think he had Chicken Pox, and neither does the doctor. He is likely allergic to something, but what? I told the doctor I haven't changed laundry liquid brands, and furthermore, clean with white vinegar so there are no chemicals in the house. He had a salad with anchovy a few weeks ago, but surely an allergy would manifest itself prior to now. Doctor asked about grasses, and it's been as dry as a bone bleached in the desert sun of late, so there might be a few airborne allergens. Also, I've been getting a blocked nose and itchy eyes, so I'm going to run with that theory. I was given a sample of ointment to apply.
Today, Master 10 looks like he has measles, but that's because the spots have multiplied in number. They're all over him. I left him at home with his dad and took Master 13 shopping for new school shoes, and to get some more of the ointment, having used the measly (no joke about spots intended) amount in the tiny tube. One of the aggravations I have mentioned clobbered me in the face, so it seemed, when the pharmacist told me the cream was not readily available over the counter and only available on prescription. I groaned. I wondered why I had not been handed a written prescription. I asked what on earth I was going to apply on those multitudinous spots. I was offered a choice of something strong with cortisone steroids, or something a bit more gentle with pine tar. Fearing the former might turn him into the Hulk, I went with the pine tar lotion. It has menthol in it, and he has been greased up (kind of like Kim Kardashian's satellite dish of an arse, but with my son it's for good reasons). My hands tingled after application (I didn't bother applying gloves), so my heart goes out to my poor kid, who has this stuff all over his body. I so hope his rash clears up soon. He sees the doc again on Monday, and also has to play 'Jingle Bells' in a concert that night.
More aggravations awaited in the supermarket queue. I stood near the checkout, eyes wandering over the trashy magazines which I will never buy. The cover of one promised to tell us Taylor Swift is back with whoever it is from 1D (Wow. Like I really fucking CARE!). The other magazine said Taylor Swift is pregnant to John (from the picture, I think it's John Mayer). Seriously, where do the so-called journalists get this dung? At least with my writing, I don't pretended to write anything other than fiction. Why are people fascinated with Taylor Swift, anyway? I find her songs a bit banal, personally. I guess the same people are fascinated with the other perennial magazine fodder, The Kardashians, who should all be serving sentences for theft of valuable oxygen from more deserving people on this planet. And yeah, silly me mentioned KK's fat bum AGAIN. The people slavering for information on these pointless carbuncles on the butt of humanity can probably name EVERYTHING about these carbuncles, but would they know who someone like Dr Elizabeth Hamblin is? No, because their book leaning all comes from pointless trashy tabloid magazines that nearly always feature a celebrity's bikini body. Want to get a bikini body? Put a fucking bikini on; there's your bikini body, okay?
I will give my kid a lesson in Shakespeare tomorrow morning: I'm going to run the cream in and quote from Lady MacBeth: 'Out, damned spot!'
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