Life is a series of firsts

First dribble, first poo, first sneeze… As you get older the firsts are less obvious but no less mucky. My bungee jump in New Zealand. New Zealand itself. My first parking ticket for infringing a two minute parking zone by 94 seconds. These quality experiences just keep rolling in, like plastic bottles on a Dorset beach.

And tomorrow? Well I have an operation. A general anaesthetic. Woopdedoo. I know I’m fortunate to reach 58 years 3 months and 13 days without so much as a local but now it’s here I’d rather not.

Still the alternative is to continue with what looks like a pair of socks rammed in the pocket of my jeans and a tendency to climb stairs like John Wayne. Thus, needs must old chap and off you jolly well go, nil by mouth and a smile waiting to be clipped on post op.

Much of my life has seemed gently absurd for which I am grateful. If I am a plaything of the gods, as I have long suspected, then I feel like I must be a favourite beanie baby rather than an unwanted tea service. Rarely have I been thrown across the room. Circumstances have cuddled me threadbare for the most part. And if, because of a crucial design fault, when man was designed, allowing for some of our shopping to droop rather, I need a safety net inserted, well I’m not about to complain. I mean look at all the positives

1. I’m not allowed to do any heavy lifting for a period; I intend to milk this.

2. Apparently I am likely to be offered free and legal narcotics; if so and I post tomorrow during a morphine induced fug I rather hope I indulge in the most egregiously rude flights of fancy. Then I can apologise to what is left of my readership on Saturday.

3. Tomorrow is, as luck would have it (ha!), Friday the 13th. I have a series of black cats lined up to cross my path and I am assured a set of ladders will act as a guard of honour as I enter the hospital. I am not superstitious. I will report tomorrow on whether I have changed my views.

4. This has to give me material to write about. For instance the consultant has warned me that there are high chances I have not one but two hernias. Yippee – Twins! ‘When I’m in there, I’ll have a look around…’ Somehow this statement of intent merely triggered an image of John Cleese in Fawlty Towers when he takes the lid off his gourmet meal expecting duck only to find a blancmange. He stares then starts rooting around looking for the missing game.

5. I will put my feet up for a day at least; all sorts of chores will be beyond me so I will have to write with a clear conscience. Grim, huh?

So, because this is not meant to be downbeat or intended to elicit sympathy – please save it for those really in need of your compassion – check out the latest #1000speak project on bullying – I leave you with some images from my garden in this spring-like sunshine.

2015-03-12 12.58.45 2015-03-12 12.59.18 2015-03-12 12.59.41 2015-03-12 16.33.04 2015-03-12 16.33.24 2015-03-12 16.33.34 2015-03-12 16.33.41 2015-03-12 16.34.26 2015-03-12 16.34.53 2015-03-12 16.35.09

And finally, as I said at the top the cause of this hiatus (ha x 2!) is the crap way the male reproductive organs were designed. The late great Robin Williams explained why.




About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published four books - Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle, My Father and Other Liars, Salisbury Square and Buster & Moo. In addition I have published two anthologies of short stories, Life, in a Grain of Sand and Life in a Flash. More will appear soon, including a memoir of my mother's last years. I will try and continue to blog regularly at about whatever takes my fancy. I hope it does yours too. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
This entry was posted in miscellany and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

23 Responses to Life is a series of firsts

  1. Autism Mom says:

    Sending you best wishes for a smooth procedure and a speedy and easy recovery. Looking forward to the fug posting… 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sue Vincent says:

    Good luck… enjoy the morphine ( we will if you post!) and do try and behave… at least temporarily 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. willowdot21 says:

    Love the photos of the garden. Good luck tomorrow, do make sure you follow instructions my hubby had a hernia operation on 10th December and they found a Hydrocele . It did actually take him nearly two months to recovery but he really did not play ball ( excuse the pun, none intended! ) and did too much too soon! ..Unrelated he now has gall Stones to be sorted! ..OMG do not get old!!!!!!! Will be thinking of you sir! Will also be commiserating with the Testelist! xxxxxx

    Liked by 1 person

    • TanGental says:

      I remember you saying he is his own worstvenemy. I will certainly try and be sensible but it isn’t really in my nature! Thank you for the good thoughts! I tho I might review the link after the op!


  4. Sacha Black says:

    Bloody love Robin Williams! You got a parking ticket for 94 seconds? WOW thats a jobsworth, I would have been raging.

    I will think of you tomorrow and be sending you healthy healing thoughts – not that it will do any good but you know… thought was there. Please do post though, I would love to see the kind of sarcastic scribblings a narcotic fuelled GLP would produce… no pressure, but I’m expecting the best! :p :p

    Seriously though, I hope you have a speedy recovery. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Rachel M says:

    All the best tomorrow! I enjoyed the Robin Williams clip 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  6. rogershipp says:

    Blessings and prayers. The garden is beautiful. Enjoy the drugs.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Charli Mills says:

    You did good to make it this far without scalpels and legal narcotics. That the first thing to fall apart was that which was designed by committee only speaks to the absurdity of committees actually creating anything long-term. May your doctor be alert and your meds be lax. Carry on, Cowboy!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Dylan Hearn says:

    I know I’m late with this but all the very best for today. Enjoy the morphine. I had it once (for pain relief) and learnt why opiates are so addictive. It was great.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Well here is that blug, back to you, Geoff.

    Wishing you well kind sir, and no keeping those nice nurses talking. They have work to do and I don’t think they do bed baths as much these these days.

    I look forward to reading your post op posts, especially if the morphine is still kicking in. Broke my upper arm in two places trying to catch an umbrella and ,after being driven over speed bumps at 40mph in an ambulance, the morphine came in very handy, but that’s another story.

    I wonder, will you be well enough to tackle the garden pond at Easter?

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Annecdotist says:

    Wishing you safely through to the other side, Geoff — of the op, I mean, obviously

    Liked by 1 person

  11. I love this line: “then I feel like I must be a favourite beanie baby rather than an unwanted tea service.” If you’re going to be a plaything of the gods, a beanie baby is a good choice. Best of luck to you–hope all goes well and you heal up quickly.

    Ah…Robin Williams. Thanks for sharing that.

    Liked by 1 person

If you would like to reply please do so here

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.