- Messages
- 1,409
- Location
- Suffolk UK
- Type of diabetes
- Don't have diabetes
- Treatment type
- I do not have diabetes
- Dislikes
- Intolerance, selfishness, rice pudding
Here is what dogs can do, by remote control:
Circa 1979 I accompanied my brother and several of his Oxford friends to a magnificent Georgian House in Shipston-on-Stour, the country residence of the parents of Georgina, one of the party. We spent much of the day on horses and I remember straddling an eighteen hander which clearly had no batteries, luckily. During the night (I thought it was about two o’clock) I awoke on the top floor with a tingling mouth, needle sharp headache and enveloping hunger. I could not find a light switch and crashed into what I think was a chest-of-drawers. Walking with my back against the item and both arms in cruciform, I eventually found a door and let myself out. I carried on in my ridiculous posture, worrying that at some stage I would reach the top of the stairs, and therefore swept my left foot round like a windscreen wiper until I felt a void. I journeyed on in the style of a nonagenarian and had the unpleasant jolt of an unexpected half-landing. Somewhere further down, I disturbed some dogs since there was a short low growl worryingly close by. I was reluctant to speed up since plummeting seemed even less desirable. The stairs were eternal. Eventually I found what I knew must be the hall, because the floor was completely different. As luck would have it, I had found the kitchen, but still no light. I bruised my thighs on the unforgiving lip of a large pine table. It was depressingly devoid of anything, let alone welcome fruit bowls. In desperation I shuffled along like an arthritic crab, finding stacks of cold crockery and all kinds of unidentifiable kitchen ware. Eventually I tried raising my arms and found a shelf with something cold and clammy, clearly on a plate and inviting consumption. Believing it was malt loaf I ripped off a hunk and ravenously shoved it into my salivating jaws. My taste buds were startled to say the least. It was very salty. Just as I was figuring this out, the light went on and the whole room, in its vastness, appeared worryingly bright. Georgina’s mother was in full country kit, accompanied by two dogs.
“What are you doing? That’s dog food, and it’s six o’clock in the morning.” Something stopped me explaining my predicament and I was given three Rich Teas. I retired and waited for breakfast.