Special Edition / Special Fried Rice
I've never seen anyone distroy a Special Fried Rice at the speed of Hincksy tonight. I left home early for my special mission - but good things only come to those who wait; and wait I did - 25 minutes. When I finally skidded around the corner of the bay, I swear he was just getting togged up to go and get the food himself. 'At Last!' he wailed. Apparently he'd been preparing for his meal for several hours. Cancel tea, go on the pan, backrest up, sheets tidy, tray in front of him, napkin at the ready...he even had a bath this morning to mark this momentous occassion. His spoon was waving wildly in the air even as we were trying to shovel the rice etc onto the plate. At last, he took a big breath and dived into the nosebag.
Mum and I tried to chat over the ecsatatic moaning, thankfully the nurses knew what he was up to and weren't distracted by the bay sounding like a knocking shop. Not to be left out, and worried that we may be gosiiping about some essential details, he tried to join in. Showered in Fried Rice, we asked him to butt out and concentrate on eating. However, in my Role as Happiness Co-ordinator, I couldn't stop myself asking him if he was enjoying the food...Fool, I'm still picking the rice out of my hair as he spluttered 'bloody lovely!'
He ate the lot, and now truly resembles Fat Buddah, and has the smile on his face to go with it. In true Hincksy fashion, he burbed and farted in celebration. Party over, he spent the next hour and a half intensely picked rice out of his teeth, and I mean intense. First the toothpick, then the electric brush, then the toothpick again, then the electric brush again, then the normal brush, then a gargle and finally the noisy teeth sucking. 'I'll still find a bit of rice later' he moaned - he is likely to have the callbell wrapped around his neck at some point; if not by the nurses, then by ME!
Briefly moving away from subject of food...Dad has a very important role in the ward. He too is a daily blogger, but not online. His neighbour's daughter arrived tonight and came straight over to him for an update on her Dad's progress. Hincksy gave her a full inventory of what he'd eaten and detailed his personal care that day. I don't know if he charges for his services, but we were wondering why his chocolate mountain was growing!
He's working really hard with his arm and leg exercises. I told him that he was doing so well, that I wouldn't be surpised if the physios tried him on the bars with some walking. 'Well I've already done that by the bed,' he stated.........WHAT????? And he didn't think this monumenous detail was important enough to mention? 'Well, I only really shuffled.' Shuffled or not, we can all look out, me more than most, because he's back and he's scary!
I would like to just take this moment to thank Phil for telling Dad how much he was enjoying the Blog. Intersted, Hincksy has now demanded that I start printing some off for him to read. I may as well resign as his duaghter and leave the country - there will be weeping and wailing (me, not him!)
Back to his favourite subject...food. When he was in his post ecstatic state, he had a moment of realisation. His one and only tastebud must have exploded back to life and he exclaimed, 'the Hospital food is f*g shite, isn't it!' Welcome back Hincksy.
Vick X