eyeball to eyeball..

There was I writing speeches and listening to Trevor Silvester a lot.
And then all of a sudden, out of the blue, without any warning, with out a bye-or-leave I get struck down with conjunctivitis.
The only thing I know about conjunctivitis is if you say it with your mouth on its side you sound like you come from the North East.
Think of Ant saying ‘conjunctivitis’ and then
‘John Paul Gaultier broke the photocopier.’
See what I mean….that’s another North Eastern sentence.
Anyway given that I didn’t know what it was I got up and went into Aunty Beeb yesterday for my briefing for THE MARATHON on Sunday.

I was meant to be linking up with The Barry but my left eye was getting redder and redder and my head started to ache my eye started streaming and then my whole body felt like I had been kicked by a wild pony in the New Forest, actually it felt like I had been kicked by a wild pony in the head.
Took the toob to Viccy then the 170 and by the time i got to the flat it felt like my head was exploding.
I had been to Boots but the pharmacist wouldn’t give me any medication for my eyeball since I had a history of Diabetes. So I went to a chemist on Riding House Street, behind the Beeb, and the pharmacist told me that all the symptoms appeared to be conjunctivitis ( Think of Cheryl Cole saying it) I bought a little white tube of antibacterial drops to drop in my eye every two hours.
My german friend told me that it has been rife in Hamburg and maybe she brought it with her when she visited last week. So now think of Deck saying conjunctivitis with a german accent….
Got back to the flat and literally fell into bed.
Wanted to talk to my homeopath – sorry Mr. Fry, if your reading this, we religionists are so damn stubborn using remedies that aren’t scientifically proven – but she wasn’t there. So I looked up the homeopathic remedy for Conjunctivits ( Think of Tim Healey, the plump bloke in Benidorm saying it) and apparently when wild animals get eye infections they eat fennel. So I downed one whole bulb of crispy white fennel, which I always have on tap as it goes, and continued the article.
An old remedy, before the advent of drugs and the like, was whacking a potato on the eye.
So I went to the fridge and there nestled between lambs lettuce, rocket and a handful of asparagus was one big potato that belonged to my roomie. I knew she wouldn’t mind so I sliced two very thin slices – too thick as it turned out – and took to my bed to listen to Clever Trevor’s slim pod whilst the potato worked its magic.
The eye got redder and redder the head got throbbier and throbbier and the bed felt like it had holly leaves under the sheet, I was so uncomfortable.
My lovely homeopath called and told me to take Pulsatilla and Silica alternately on the hour every hour.
So I made a little chart, sliced some more potatoes and took to my bed.
The old git felt resonsible for me so decided to leave the cottage early on Saturday morning and come and look after me.
Three times in the night I sliced me spuds and took me remedies, dropped me drops and listened to TC.
At 7.00 this morning the swelling had gone down, the eyeball was a lot less red and the weeping non existent.
I washed the pillow cases and towels cos I was worried about spreading the damn infection and by way of compensation for knicking her Maris Piper I drove the roomate to Nottinghill Gate this morning.
I could not believe how easy the journey was over this road, then that, then another down the wide one left up past the thingy and then right up the street with the church and before you could say fry me a portobellow mushroom we were there.
When I came back did my potato routine, took me remedies and slept. The daughter came over for lunch and the ‘oosbind arrived just in time to sort out some more spud-u-like. He didn’t use a knife he used the potato peeler.
Of course the resulting spud was not a slice but a slither. Much thinner, more moist and much easier to apply to the offending area.
I’ts now 17.08. God’s Gift in snoozing on the little settee, Simba the dog, who we are looking after, is lying outside the office and the girl is wrapped in a towel, playing computer games, having just dripped out of the bath.
I have had to put the heating on beause I am so chilled but the good news is, apart from sporadic head pain it looks like I will be able to read my script tomorrow for THE MARATHON.
Who’d have though that bunging a raw potato slice on the eye would be so efficacious. Well done to all the old wives whose tales have saved the day yet again…..