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View Full Version : Well, it's been a strange few days. Dial 999, but three times!


Loose rivets
29th Sep 2016, 22:43
A week or so ago, I made a 999 call due to the strange behaviour of a man on our Naze cliffs. There were six separate issues that added together, made it a bit sinister. I've heard no more.

Last night - or this morning in fact - there was a loud bang in our deathly quiet neighbourhood. I opened the front (side) door and at that moment, there was another really loud report. I called the cops on another 999 call. Not long after a policeman tapped on my door and came in for a chat. He said there was a lot of work being done throughout the night and it must have been something to do with that. He then answered his radio, leapt into his car and made a hasty retreat with blue lights ablaze. My phone rang and someone thanked me for 'calling it in' as there were two cars ablaze in the next road and the bangs were the tyres exploding. I noticed the fire engines leaving at 03:00.

This AM I got up and made my tea and toast. I took a tablet that's supposed to help my hearing, and did this-and-that for a while. The that bit was cleaning the bath with a spray called Mr Muscle or some such. Being allergic to that kind of product, I'm very, very careful normally and don't even use mild washing up liquid because of a possible reaction, but now I'd got a suspect pill inside me and no doubt, some vapour/mist in my lungs that lungs don't like. I then started to feel ill.

Within five minutes I felt very ill, and when I say ill, it reminded me of the allergic reaction I'd had in 2001: elephant sitting on chest, ashen grey face with mauve lips, and a feeling I was being eaten by a bore worm a foot in diameter that had inconsiderately blunt teeth. (Really, apart from that I was okay.) However, this time I felt much the same plus everything was going grey, except now I'd got a display of stars to keep me amused. I subsided onto the living room floor thinking, Oh, Bo-locks! Do your worst. Then it did. Now all I wanted was an EpiPen, or a miracle drug, or a nurse with huge breasts, but no, all I'd got was a tiled floor to bang my head on. In disbelief I again found myself dialling 999.

I'd had the presence of mind to unlatch the front door and within 3 minuets (yes, really) a man on my phone was telling me to stay with him and he was in my road - and was the door open? I answered to the positive in a graaaaaghkkkkaaaaaagh sort of way.

He connected me to a complete science suite . . . and then disconnected me again and waited patiently while I disappeared into the bathroom. I thought we'd not played that scene out terribly well so we went through it again, however, now I was able to sit in my comfy chair as he stuck the ECG tabs on me. My waves were of a magnificent shape but sadly lacking in quantity. Forty-nine at first and then fifty - so looking on the bright side I'm obviously on the mend. My BP's top number was of exactly the same magnitude. I did find it odd that my temperature had fallen, but then, what do I know? Though it occurs to me now that measuring temperature via a faulty organ might well lead to quantitative anomalies. Maybe that's what's wrong with my hearing - their heating radiators have become blocked! Such deductive powers. Clearly I chose the wrong profession. But for now, the young man was showing great professionalism and a kindness that xxxx would admire. What's more, I was feeling more than a tad better. I can recall as a child that feeling of getting better being so nice, and now to make this recovery complete, the person formally known as my wife came in and made me a cup of tea.

If only one could invent a way to feel the warmth of getting better - without getting ill in the first place, one would be on a winner.

Tankertrashnav
29th Sep 2016, 23:24
Well all I can say L-R is that I really hope you make a speedy and complete recovery.

I must say though, if you are allergic to mild washing up liquid, wasn't it a tad unwise to start spraying a product like Mr Muscle around? I mean, the clue's in the name isn't it? ;)

Anyway, all the very best!

UniFoxOs
30th Sep 2016, 07:36
within 3 minuets

Were you dancing?

Seriously - Get Well Soon.

vulcanised
30th Sep 2016, 11:37
I am also allergic to lots of every day things (usually petroleum based) since I got chemical poisoning at work in 1979.

Sensitivity varies and I can't avoid a lot of them, being on my own.
.

Octopussy2
30th Sep 2016, 12:37
You're obviously well on the road to recovery if you're able to write about the episode so eloquently on the same day! :D Glad you're feeling better and stop sniffing the detergents!! (maybe a cleaner is in order, if you're in a position to???)

Big Tudor
30th Sep 2016, 21:17
Loose RivetsThank you for portraying an obviously traumatic episode in such a humorous way. Has brought a wry smile to the face.

Loose rivets
1st Oct 2016, 01:44
One cheated really having pasted it from me FB blog to the family. However, this is what happened today, though I should say, my humour circuits are a tad damped by the frustration of being contained in a time-expired shell. It's about this time that I usually get told off for being ungrateful and reminded about poor old X.

"He's left alone and then he breaks his foot and can't get food and falls into the bath which sadly, he keeps his coal in. Nobody finds him for six months and by then he's eaten all the coal and is so fed up with water he drank his own blood."

It's no use telling me stories like that. I just wonder - is that supposed to make me feel better? I mean, I get run over by a Morris Minor and all people can say is, You're lucky! Poor old Fred got run over by a steam roller. Shuuuuuut Uuuuuup.

Okay today. Went to doctor who told me to throw stuff away.

I'd not met him before. He seemed terribly nice, though very quick to stop me rambling. I wish people would listen to my rambles, after all many of my gems contain the answer to the Universe's most puzzling questions but folk won't give me time to elucidate. Silly them, all this knowledge lost to the world.

After a severely restricted ramble.

"How old was the Mr Muscle?"
"Oh, I don't know. It was in the house when I arrived."
His eyes narrowed and he pressed me for an answer.
"Been there two years, so probably three, or even four years old."
"Throw it away!"
He told me the pills were nothing to do with it as I'd been taking them for some days and his fingers tracked my ECG trace as he explained how old products can change chemically. It sounded sensible, though I was more taken with his appreciation of the curvature of my heart's pulses. Clearly a man that appreciates the finer things in medicine.
"How much weight did you say you'd lost?"
Now I had to think in kgs. "Mmmm . . ." Now he'd got me as I'd run out of fingers.
"Step on the scales."
I relayed the figure. "That looks about right. I know I've lost 40 pounds."
He reeled out the numbers in good old stones. Good old British terminology. "How old are the scales?"
I cupped my hand to my ear, but he had said that. "I don't know, they were in the house when I got there."
"Throw them away!"
I cupped my hand to my other ear but there was no real need as he was pointing to everything in the room that took measurements.
"We have to throw them away every two years."

Now this was a step too far. Yes, keeping cleaning fluids for twenty years is something I perhaps shouldn't have done throughout my life, but scales. Was he kidding? He didn't look like he was kidding. In fact, he was finding more things to point at by the moment.

Obviously not brought up during the war. We had to keep string and cardboard, let alone weighing machines - those that hadn't been taken to melt down - so no chance of kissing one of those goodbye. I'd take mine apart, oil their little cogs, reassemble and recalibrate. Throw them away? Silly boy. He was now being observed by my slitted eyes and there was a moment or two of silence. Time to change the subject.

"Oh, while I'm here, would you look at this?" My trousers were already half undone. "There, that bulge. I proffered an Inguinal thingy"
He poked and prodded and nodded. "Yes, you need surgery. Best get it done."

B$^[email protected]%ah. That'll put paid to my power-walking for at least two months. Darn. I was feeling so good, fairly racing my new slim form up the 72' from the beach to the cliff-tops. I was all set to rejoin the tennis club and be ready for the over 80's championships.

B$^[email protected]%ah.



P.S. A friend of the family has reported feeling ill every time she uses Mr Muscle. She hadn't given it much thought 'till now.

We take this germ killing nonsense too far. Well, some of us do. Why, one day in Texas, my baked potato got sprayed while it sat innocently minding it business beside the microwave.

One is now catching up on reaching my Peck of dirt before I die schedule.

Just in case you're wondering, a Peck is a dry measure of two gallons.

MarcK
1st Oct 2016, 02:18
Hmm. This is what Mr. Muscle contains:
Contains Sodium hydroxide
Contains < 5% aliphatic hydrocarbons, Polycarboxylates, Anionic surfactants, Perfume Limonene METHYLCHLOROISOTHIAZOLINONE Methylisothiazolinone

IF INHALED: Remove victim to fresh air and keep at rest in a position comfortable for breathing. IF ON SKIN (or hair): Remove/ Take off immediately all contaminated clothing. Rinse skin with water/ shower. IF IN EYES: Rinse cautiously with water for several minutes. Remove contact lenses, if present and easy to do. Continue rinsing. IF SWALLOWED: Rinse mouth. Do NOT induce vomiting
Other than that, it's quite harmless...

ExSp33db1rd
1st Oct 2016, 03:35
"There, that bulge. I proffered an Inguinal thingy"

I had my last one done by some sort of keyhole surgery - I think I then drove home.

No problem, that I recall.

Tankertrashnav
1st Oct 2016, 09:33
Just in case you're wondering, a Peck is a dry measure of two gallons

Yes, but how much is a bushel?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aw2phldcmCQ

Super VC-10
1st Oct 2016, 09:47
Yes, but how much is a bushel?

There are four pecks to the bushel.

G-CPTN
1st Oct 2016, 09:52
C9-_wU2E-ZU

DirtyProp
1st Oct 2016, 10:02
Now all I wanted was an EpiPen, or a miracle drug, or a nurse with huge breasts, but no, all I'd got was a tiled floor to bang my head on.

Since you asked....

http://cumonmy.com/galleries/2014-updates/04-001-Huge-Tits-Collection/huge-boobs-big-tits-naked-breasts-tittie-porn-yes-nurse-d5v9p11.jpg

PS: glad you're safe and sound again.

Loose rivets
1st Oct 2016, 11:43
Thanks. Safe, but 'sound' would be stretching it a little. At least that thing about sound of mind. :}

Blimy! I've got that slow to load problem again and the picture hadn't loaded last time around. Oooooh, Matron.



I had my last one done by some sort of keyhole surgery - I think I then drove home.

Coo, that's good news. I wonder if they'd let me run home. That's stretching it (groan) a bit I'd think.

I just want one of those services from sci-fi films where you go in and have everything done. But, I guess reincarnation would be a better option, but only if you could choose the life-situation. That's what's so nice about writing sci-fi, one can build wondrous situations and imagine oneself in them.

Mind you, my sequel to the big book is stalling time and time again because it has a lot to do with anger at the refusal to intervene in the world's misery. Even as the creator of a little fictional world I can't justify the things I'm seeing in the world now. Oh, getting serious. Best take that over to the other thread.

gemma10
1st Oct 2016, 17:32
I think she has to keep her hands on the chair to stop herself falling off forwards.
LR Any update on the sale of the beemer? Thinking of selling mine now as I`m tired of driving to Spain.

Windy Militant
1st Oct 2016, 18:13
I guess reincarnation would be a better option
It might be, I heard about the couple that were devoted to each other and they made a pact that whichever passed first would try to make contact with the other. So the day came and hubby shot through and after a bit the missus goes to a medium who makes contact with him.

"What's it like" she asks? "
It's great" he replies.
"I get up, have bit of a swim, have a bite to eat, have some sex, have some more food, a bit more of a swim, some more sex, its great"
the wife goes
"Waaaah it doesn't sound much like heaven to me!"
He replies
"It's not I've been reincarnated as a duck on lake Windermere" :}

Glad your feeling better, but watch out for them MELs and wear proper PPE in future! :=

Mr Optimistic
1st Oct 2016, 20:14
Confused. Were the deafness tablets absolved from blame?

Loose rivets
1st Oct 2016, 23:35
Pardon? Oh, yes he, the doctor, thought since I'd taken them for several days they could be eliminated. I've just plucked up courage to take the first one since the 'event'. This was perhaps because I couldn't hear a word Dr Maggie was saying about the moon. Nothing, just a load of mush and bloody music in the background. I note the pressure has gone down, and have noted that my hearing was pretty darn good on a high pressure day. I suppose I could get a room down a disused coal mine. :suspect:

The car? Not a dicky-bird. Nada. Nowt. The worst reaction I've ever had to an ad. One kind PPRuNer has offered to help me sell it but I've been so distracted with other issues I've not got going on that.

When things get tough I tend to hide my head in the sand . . . or Jet Blast.

One thing I have done is to buy a leather sofa and recliner, oh, and a pouf. I was very careful about agreeing to the last item, though mind you, the way things are . . . :p Talking of which, I was invited to tea by the Rivetess and we set about arguing while I was sitting on her pouffe. She doesn't house poufs, just pouffes and that was just one more thing we could argue about. That, and the way people should deport themselves while sitting on such an item. But then we decided to research Rossetta Stone and Philae. One did not know that latter was a Grade II listed building - in the grounds of a Grade I listed house. It's the sort of thing one needs to know just in case one is ever on So You Want to be a Millionaire. We discussed languages, time-scales, using priceless rocks for building materials, and then I said something about gravity. Oh dear. Gravity, or the word at least, was banned from the Rivetts' household. She has a way of standing at an open door pointing in the direction of leaving that makes me look at my watch and say, Goodness, look at the time. Must be off.

Sofa. I've got the recliner, that comes apart, but the three-seat sofa is another issue. It seems one has to remove the windows to get large items in. Mmmm . . . it's my fault. Just can't resist a bargain - or shiny black leather. Now, where's that pouf? :}

DG101
2nd Oct 2016, 00:29
Don't take the windows out - you'd only have to put them all back after installing the sofa. And what if the sofa developed a fault and had to be returned ... then you'd have to do the whole thing of removal, removal, and replacement in reverse, followed some time later by a repeat re-installation of a rectified or replacement sofa.

Much better to leave the sofa in situ and rebuild the house around it.

Mr Optimistic
2nd Oct 2016, 06:26
This is disturbing. Men over a certain age shouldn't be buying furniture, let alone taking pleasure in it. You'll be having lunch at the garden centre next and thinking it's a special day out.

Loose rivets
2nd Oct 2016, 10:36
Funny you should say that. Here we have Beth Chatto gardens and the Rivetess and her pal took me to waddle around its prettiness for a couple of hours. One then had coffee and gluten-free cake and came home again.

It was okay, but the best part was subjecting them to masses of g and loud warnings from the monitoring computers. :E