Spin

The TV in the work canteen this morning was showing a fly-on-the wall documentary about a hospital. A man was having a mole looked at. Two minutes later and he's being operated on while fully conscious, flat on his back and startled eyes wide open looking directly up at the ceiling, most of his torso covered in a racing green coloured sheet, while flanked either side by two professionals under a bright white light. I suspected they were working away on his mole. I thought there was a lot of blood and the big incision unnecessary for a simple mole removal but there you go, I'm sure they knew what they were doing. By the time I got up to leave there was another man standing about, who looked quite jovial and I could sense the white flesh of a bulging belly under his old grey t-shirt and I thought, 'ey up, he's next.

This the third week on the spin. How much tax money you pocketing?

There are three destinations I hear announced when waiting for my train home and every single time I mishear Up Early, Migraine and Poorly.

A couple of nights ago I had a late bath. I shouldn't have really as my cold-state had left me feeling a bit woozy, but still I took the plunge in the hot soapy water and submerged myself up to my neck, and the tiled wall swayed from left to right a little, the grid of the white grout leaving a burning white impression when I closed my eyes. And still it rocked, more heavily to the right with each tilt as if it was slowly building momentum in that direction to set the room spinning like a Wall of Death, a tiled one, without a motorcyclist, but a man in a bath.

Vinegar

In the hardware store a man came up to me and asked if I knew where the lining paper was while consulting the face of his mobile phone. I was looking for the PVA. After a bit of a think I pointed him in the direction of where I thought the lining paper would be and said, "Whatever I'm looking for is never where I expect it to be in here." Then low and behold just as I raised my pointy finger and uttered those words a big suspended LINING PAPER sign appeared. Well, that is not actually true but I like to think that's what it said. I think it was more like WALLPAPER AND PASTE. I had to ask someone where the PVA was. On my to the PVA I saw the lining paper man as he left the aisle I sent him to. He was now speaking into his mobile phone and hastily told me they didn't have the grade he needed.

In the car park, a family had been getting into their car. The mam was bundling the daughter into the back seat and before the dad with a trolley full of tiles could get anywhere near opening the boot, he was approached by two men canvassing for work. They looked a bit pushy, in fairly casual get-up. Within seconds of a wary sideways glance from the dad, one of them was showing the dad something on his mobile phone, I suspect photographic evidence of his handiwork. By the time I left the hardware store, the car was gone, and only the man with the mobile phone was left loitering in the car park, eyeing up the loads people were packing into the boots of their cars.

Later, in the supermarket, a strong smell of vinegar started to follow me around and it got stronger by the time I reached the checkout. It was so strong I started smelling up close some of the items in my basket, first the jar of gherkins, then the fresh salmon, but both showed no signs of leakage. Then a woman at the checkout next to me dropped a big jar of pickled onions which shattered on the floor. The smell of vinegar slowly abated.