Dammit.
I cursed softly as I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and bleary looking.
True, I was hungover but this looked different. Both eyes were also unbearably itchy. I sighed deeply. One of the curses of being a devilishly clever and handsome man is that there has to be some Ying to balance that Yang.
In my case, it was a tendency to get eye infections. No idea how it happens but most years I get one sometimes two.
Dammit.
I stomped downstairs and into the lounge.
The Good Lady was talking to her witchy Magpie Doula friend, Olette.
Oh, hey, Grumpy bum. What's up with you?
Asked the Good Lady.
I stomped past mumbling about going to the shops for eye drops.
Caarrk?
Olette stretched her ebony beak open and Skraarked disagreeably at me.
I made an Elvis face at her and carried on into the Kitchen to rattle up some coffee.
There was a fluttering of raggedy wings behind me.
Do you have green tea and a Muslim?
I tensed.
Green tea and a Muslim? A Muslim? Did she think I might keep a random Muslim in the fridge? or the Pasta cupboard? Was she fucking nuts?
I turned to face Olette.
We don't keep Muslims in this house.
I said sternly. Hoping that I wasn't coming across all EDL
I said muslin. You know, like Cheesecloth?
Oh, muslin... Erm, yes, actually, in there. Why?
I pointed at a drawer.
Olette smiled like a hopping descendant of the Dinosaurs and started boiling my kettle. Note - Not a euphemism, she was nowhere near my penis.
Shortly after I was sat snugly in my favourite chair in the lounge sipping coffee before the journey to the shops for some eye-fixery.
Olette breezed through on black wings from the kitchen clutching a couple of small off-white bags in her hands.
Come.
She beckoned me to the couch where the Good Lady sat looking amused.
Um, what's that?
I made no move to get up and pointed at the strange little bags she was holding.
Green tea poultice. It will fix your eyes. Come.
Reluctantly, like a cat in a Florist's, I moved toward her and sat down.
She bade me to put my head in her lap.
I hesitated but the Good Lady gave me a helpful shove and next thing I knew I was lying with my head on Olette's lap looking up at the underside of her chin and less helpfully her ebony breasties.
Relax, you are all tense.
She muttered, passing a hand over my eyes to close them.
I was tense. I tried to relax as Olette put the poultices on my eyes.
Now, let's wait for ten minutes.
Olette said softly as if she had put something horrid in the oven.
Ten Minutes?!?!? On a strange lady's lap? What the hell was I meant to do? Where should I put my hands??
Manfully, I wrestled my way through the ten minutes despite becoming ever more aware of a faint musty odour, like old twigs tied together and kept in a bag under the sink.
Was that Olette's bahjeen?
Crikey, was I being unfaithful to the Good Lady, lying here inhaling another lady's bahjeen?
Before I could fret any further or get one of those troublesome erections, the little muslin poultices were lifted from my eyes and I was helped up to a sitting position.
How do your eyes feel now?
Asked both the Good Lady and Olette together.
I blinked several times and made a humphing face. I wanted to say that they felt exactly the same. I wanted to grump that I had just wasted ten minutes of my life... I wanted to sneer at the witchy ways of the Doulas.
But my eyes kinda did feel a lot better.
Dammit!!
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