The Demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter thirty one

Got home and had a peas pudding and ham sandwich! What is it with me and peas? I might not be able to do extreme ironing - Extreme Ironing (or EI) is an extreme sport and a performance art in which people take an ironing board to a remote location and iron a few items of clothing. According to the official website, extreme ironing is "the latest danger sport that combines the thrills of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well-pressed shirt." But I certainly know how to live dangerously!! Peas twice in one day. One must really question my sanity. Friday night and Saturday night in the club are becoming a bit surreal. People keep hugging me, shaking my hand and kissing me. And that’s just the men! Someone comes up and sits down and asks me how I am. I reply that I am OK except for my derriere. He asks again, “But how are you really.” I tell him that I am good, treatment is good and everything is fine. He asks again, “ But I need to know the truth – we can’t lose you – you are one of the good guys.” Again I reiterate that I am great except for my arse but look on the bright side. Literally. I tell him we are saving a fortune in electricity because we don’t need bedside lights to read – I just expose my bum – it’s glowing enough to see to read. He walks off shaking his head. The analgesic cream is working and the microwave stuck up my arse is now on defrost and the pain is lessening. Antony, Lyndsey and Eleanor are coming over for Sunday lunch so I need to be on my best behaviour. I make Yorkshire puddings with “my little girl” although she gets most of the flour down me instead of in the bowl. I use Brian Turner’s recipe of quantities – equal eggs, flour and milk and we never fail. Eleanor is not very well – she has been sick in the car so the Yorkshire puddings are off. I had two ribs of beef on a low light and the meat just collapses off the bone. Amazing. Eleanor is sat on her father’s knee and for some reason has started talking very formally, calling him “father” and her mum “mother”, me grandfather and Irene Grandmother. “Excuse me father,” she says. Antony replies “Yes, daughter, “Father, why are you such a big burke? ” she asks. We all erupt into hysterics. So it’s off to the club tonight – I think I will try some beer again. Sunday night is always a good night and tonight they have a Tamla Motown turn on which reminds me of the ice- skating rink in Brighton. Torvill and Dean I wasn’t. I spent more time on my backside rather than on my feet. (sorry – back to my favourite subject again.)