catsback (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} catsback) wrote,@ 2008-03-06 06:24:00 |
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"She's done what?"
I'm feeling like a circus juggler - without the make-up - when the phone rings. I'm trying to figure out how I can persuade a shy Ross County lottery winner to pose for a photograph and share his £10,000 joy with the rest of the world. I'm also wondering why trying to get italics on our computer system is so different when it appears it can do everything else short of making me coffee. And I'm thinking about making myself a cup of coffee.
So when it turns out to be my daughter's nursery, I'm suddenly yanked from work mode into 'oh-no-what's-happened?' daddy mode.
"I don't want you to worry but, um, Grace has stuck some Blu-Tak up her nose."
My mind reels back 35 years and I try to identify with the situation. Nope. I can't remember ever sticking Blu Tak up my nose. I can't remember ever sticking anything up my nose, apart from a finger. On a fairly regular basis.
By the time I get there, it appears the foreign body may have become dislodged. But no one is sure. The doctor's surgery does me proud and suggests I take her in to see a nurse. I hope this will all prove to be a sobering experience for Grace. Bit it's not working. "Oh Daddy, I'm so excited! I've never seen a nurse before! Will she have a white hat with a red cross on it?"
She didn't. But she did establish there was nothing, barring bogies, up Grace's nose. It was over. Later that night, Grace looked up at me with big eyes and said: "Daddy, I'll never, ever stick Blu-Tak up my nose again."
A result of sorts.
Back at the day job, the retiring lottery winner was still proving elusive. And the coffee had run out.
I'm feeling like a circus juggler - without the make-up - when the phone rings. I'm trying to figure out how I can persuade a shy Ross County lottery winner to pose for a photograph and share his £10,000 joy with the rest of the world. I'm also wondering why trying to get italics on our computer system is so different when it appears it can do everything else short of making me coffee. And I'm thinking about making myself a cup of coffee.
So when it turns out to be my daughter's nursery, I'm suddenly yanked from work mode into 'oh-no-what's-happened?' daddy mode.
"I don't want you to worry but, um, Grace has stuck some Blu-Tak up her nose."
My mind reels back 35 years and I try to identify with the situation. Nope. I can't remember ever sticking Blu Tak up my nose. I can't remember ever sticking anything up my nose, apart from a finger. On a fairly regular basis.
By the time I get there, it appears the foreign body may have become dislodged. But no one is sure. The doctor's surgery does me proud and suggests I take her in to see a nurse. I hope this will all prove to be a sobering experience for Grace. Bit it's not working. "Oh Daddy, I'm so excited! I've never seen a nurse before! Will she have a white hat with a red cross on it?"
She didn't. But she did establish there was nothing, barring bogies, up Grace's nose. It was over. Later that night, Grace looked up at me with big eyes and said: "Daddy, I'll never, ever stick Blu-Tak up my nose again."
A result of sorts.
Back at the day job, the retiring lottery winner was still proving elusive. And the coffee had run out.
