Friday, 2 September 2005

not a drop to drink

Have you ever travelled from Birmingham to the Netherlands, via Canterbury and Harwich, in a seven and a half ton truck being driven by someone who needs to stop every forty minutes to have a pee?

B's antibiotics for his tick-bite must have upset his flora and fauna to such an extent, that on our one pants-washing day at home between France and the Netherlands, he started to exhibit all the uncomfortable symptoms of a water infection.

Before we found somewhere where he could go and see a doctor, we tried home doctoring:

Me: "Drink plenty of water."
B: [bloated voice] "I am. Ally, I can't possibly drink any more water, OR I WILL BURST AND DIE."
Me: "You're not drinking enough. Honestly! Men! Women have this all the time. Here! Drink this! And put some yoghurt on your, you know, your MAN BITS."
B: [strained AND bloated voice] "I beg your pardon?"
Me: "Dip it in yoghurt. It works for water infections as well as for thrush."
B: [very quietly and very emphatically] "I am not, under any circumstances, dipping my nob in yoghurt."
Me: "Ah, go on!"
B: "No!"
Me: "It's soothing, honestly! Hang on, I'll get some." [scampers off and returns to bedroom, brandishing triumphal yoghurt]
B: [sitting on side of bed, resigned AND strained AND bloated voice] "What do I do?"
Me: "Well, I suppose, just dip it in ... "
B: [his back to me, silent few moment]
Me: "Is that better?"
B: [slight pause] "Yes, thank you."
[longer pause]
B: "You're so going to blog about this, aren't you?"
Me: [coughs] "It honestly hadn't even crossed my mind."

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