The Hidden Glasgow Forums

rotten milk wrote:all the best to you brigit

Bless you

HollowHorn wrote:I was rather amused to see ma mad aunty posting in the 'equipment' thread

I was talking about spiders.

BrigitDoon wrote:I was talking about spiders.

..

It's too small for Grannie Brigit's peepers, even with her windaes on, Doorstop. What is it? A razor? I don't get it

It is a razor .. and it's for trimming your spiders.

Def:

Urban Dictionary wrote:Spiders n. vern. : Normally seen at the beach or during off season, spiders are female pubic hairs that poke out from the side of bikini bottoms/panties. See also Spider Hunting

Doorstop wrote:It is a razor .. and it's for trimming your spiders.

Def:

Urban Dictionary wrote:Spiders n. vern. : Normally seen at the beach or during off season, spiders are female pubic hairs that poke out from the side of bikini bottoms/panties. See also Spider Hunting

Fuxake mate blokes in peedos get spiders too. Thankfully the sales of said swimming trunks are declining, offence that they are

I've been writing up some notes about my recent experience in hospital. The journey home was notable...

I suffer from chronic head pains and these had been tormenting me throughout my stay in hospital far more than the surgery and its consequences. The pain "down there" was only once more than 5/10 and they gave me oromorph to douse it. My head pain is usually of a dull crushing nature but it often builds up to 8/10 which is my threshold.

Stress makes it worse and when it hits the threshold, my brain stops working. Well, actually, it doesn't, it sits there "wheelspinning", and I can't manage a train of thought. That's not good news with a flight from one end of the land to the other to negotiate.

Fortunately, the duty nurse ordered a taxi for me and gave the driver instructions. The driver was a gentleman. I couldn't understand everything he was saying as he had a fairly strong subcontinental accent. I told him, I'd trust him to get the job done because I couldn't think straight. He was happy to take charge and eventually dropped me at Gatwick's North Terminal and into the care of a member of airport staff who then guided me to British Airways' check-in. BA weren't convinced I was fit to fly at first, but I gave them a letter from the hospital to say that I was and explained that I would feel better if I had a few minutes to rest.

A lady from the check-in came to me and suggested that I remove from my checked luggage anything essential to my well-being. She may have guessed that I had two dilators in there. These are clear plastic cylindrical items, tapered at one end. Their purpose is to maintain the shape of one's "new Mini" after surgery. I'd be in serious trouble without them. I said that I didn't want any trouble going through security and was given to understand that there was unlikely to be any.

They checked my suitcase in and then put me on a wheelchair and sent me through security. Unfortunately, my hand luggage had my glasses case in it and this in turn had a tiny screwdriver that I use to tighten the screws that hold the lenses in place. I'd forgotten about this and security pulled my bag out and had the contents out for all to see.

The guy doing this was an arsehole of the first order. "What are these?"

"We'll talk about it in private..."

He ignored me and forced the issue. There were tears and then anger. I swear if I'd been mobile, I'd have cleared the conveyor and put his lights out. His female colleague came 'round to mollify me: "He's a nice guy really..."

I just glowered at her until she went away. No good being a nice guy in the tea room if you're an arsehole in public.

Next, they handed me over to a muppet, a real whingeing jobsworth who insisted on taking me to the departure gate despite my protests that I needed an inflatable cushion to sit on. I did get the cushion in the end and I was handed back to British Airways who resumed their pleasant manner and loaded me onto the 'plane.

The flight home was uneventful until we came to the descent. The lateral movements set up a lot of pain and having walked the length of the fuselage after landing I was suffering.

There was a fellow waiting for me with a wheelchair. He said a few kind and sympathetic words and sat me in the wheelchair. He took great care to ensure I was comfortable and then pushed me through the terminal building. He collected my luggage and ordered a taxi from someone he trusted and made sure that the driver knew that my luggage had to be lifted up the stairs and laid out in my living room. All the way, he'd been reassuring and a shoulder to cry on. In short, he saw that I made from the aircraft door to my living room without having to worry about a thing. What a gentleman! I'm writing to his boss to tell him what a hero he is.

I'm also writing to Gatwick...

Final score: Glasgow 3 Gatwick 0

What a fucking nightmare .. heads should roll.

I am drafting a letter right now. Should I fold it into the shape of a paper plane and install a payload, do you think?

The irony may be lost on them.

You're right, Doorstop. I'll put the payload on something more appropriate.

This should give them the Phantom-Willies!

Brigit you make me laugh and cry at the same time...

Night sweats. Urggh. Had to abandon the bed at 0500 this morning because it was soaked through again. My hair was so wet I had to dry it with a towel. I'm not supposed to restart my hormones for another week.

I've got a split in my new fanny - one that's not supposed to be there.

I feel awful.

BrigitDoon wrote:I've got a split in my new fanny - one that's not supposed to be there.

I feel awful.

Dex might ask for Evidence

I've got a photograph and it's not pretty.