A doula calls.
This morning I felt considerably rougher than I normally do after some Beer Saturday action.
Still, it was nothing that a man like me couldn't take in his stride.
So, after rolling about on my bed for half an hour mewling pitifully, I dragged myself up to face the world.
As I came downstairs and entered the lounge I realised three things.
One. It was much later than I thought because the clocks had gone forward.
Two. It was Mother's day. Fortunately, I had this one in the bag and had festooned the lounge with flowers for a certain good lady before going to bed.
And three, there was a strange woman in my house.
I don't mean it was the good lady on her moon cycle either.
I pulled my dressing gown tighter around my magnificently muscled frame and looked at this strange woman thing.
She looked back at me, a wild crow of a woman in brightly coloured clothing.
Good morning.
She said huskily.
You must be... Daddy...
Her lips twitched up in a crooked smile.
I raised an eyebrow. I will happily take the term daddy when used at me by my family but a random lady? And what was she doing in my house?
Was this a fairytale style dream? Should I get my penis out and suggest we stir a certain cauldron?
Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound as the old ones say. I have her a rakish wink.
Aye. That would be me.
Just then, the good lady bustled in from the kitchen with the little boom on one hip.
Damn, it wasn't a dream.
Hey Daddy-Bear, I see you have met Olette?
The strange woman did a half curtsey thing and smiled wickedly as if imagining pecking at my cooling corpse.
Aye, Olette, is it? Magic. Anyone want anything from the kitchen? I need some coffee.
I walked around the strange woman and the good lady and into the kitchen.
Coffee would be lovely Daddy-Bear! I'm just popping upstairs to get the little boom a fresh vest.
Trilled the good lady.
I huffed and started banging the coffee stuff together.
Oh yes. You have the Apple Cider Vinegar, I see.
The Olette startled me by gliding in behind me on unseen feet. She was pointing at a big green bottle on my worktop.
Yeah, I use it in my chilli paste.
I said casually. As if a strange witchen woman wasn't flirting with me in my kitchen.
You can use it for so many things...
Said Olette in a throaty growl.
Um, yeah. Smashing.
Said I, fiddling with some milk.
Olette placed the fingers of one hand on my arm.
I use it on ... everything...
She husked as if she has asthma and had just petted a particularly dirty dog.
Oh right.
I nodded.
At that point the good lady appeared brandishing a freshly clothed little boom.
All done!
She cried cheerily.
She took Olette away into the lounge where I could hear them chattering about boob-feeding.
I clutched onto the worktop.
Why did I just feel like I had been rescued?