Morning Glory

What an action packed last 12 hours we’ve had:

At 11pm last night PantyHead called me out of my cosy little bed for an impromptu security check. At her insistence we had to trundle round from room to room while I unlocked and then relocked a variety of doors and windows to prove that they were in fact locked in the first place. My sense of humour failed a bit.

Later PantyHead explained this post war-paranoia as a throwback from her childhood where she grew up in Northern Ireland. Her war-widowed aunt lived with them and used to taunt PantyHead with the threat “Old Mr Mosley is going to get you” or “Old Mr Mosley is hiding under the stairs” (Old Mr Mosley a.ka. the boogieman, or muti-man – if you grew up in South Africa). PantyHead said it was very cruel and this is why she is “such a nervous individual.”

At 7am this morning I heard PantyHead on the prowl and fearing a repeat of the security check I dragged my heels a bit. At 7.30am I popped my head round her door to find the room empty but a tell tale trail of high-fibre led me to the bathroom door. It is much like big game hunting round here; follow the old dear’s spoor…

…Once located PantyHead informed me that she had had one hell of a night. At approximately 3am she had felt that she had eaten too much salt the previous day. Fearing the consequences of this salt-overload she had dug out a medical reference book and was horrified to discover that too much salt can make you blind. Traumatised at the thought of losing her eyes PantyHead had thought to offset the previous day’s salt intake with some sugar. She duly quaffed half a bottle of white wine (for the sugar). Having drunk the wine the old girl was struck with the brainwave that she could simply expel the excess salt from her body; she thus consumed:

• 10 prunes
• 4 sizeable table spoons of Senokot (or Shitalot as the Husband calls it)
• Half a cup of Lactulose (a favourite laxative with the elderly)

Having double dosed on laxatives the old girl was quite sure that her salt worries would be a thing of the past and she felt happy in the knowledge that the laxatives would take a good 8 hours to come into effect. WRONG! PantyHead spent a perilous night perched on her commode until she moved over to the toilet, which is where I found her this morning.

I slept through the entire blessed event, as the old termagant rather unusually didn’t summon me. She now has quite a severe case of the shits and we are shuttling between armchair and commode.

Let this be a lesson to you a heady concoction of wine and liquid laxatives can be one hell of a thing.

P.S. PantyHead has just asked that I go to the shops for more Senokot (shitalot) - she's afraid of being caught short. Say what?