Back row from left:
Suzie, Janelle (NellyBean), Hayley, Alice (LutheranLiar), Planet Simon, Bryntin, Jill, Cherie, Orla, April, Katie (McCupcakes), Suzanne (G. house sitter)
Niall, Lorna, Lise, Gemma, Ritu
Mr Plot, Plot.
Don’t think I don’t have my eye on the rest of you, just because there is no cartoon… yet lol!
Plot was in a bad way. All the dust from the house renovations had finally done for her and she couldn’t go three breaths without coughing. From a lifetime free of allergies, she had finally succumbed to allergic rhinitis when she was pregnant; both times. Although it had cleared up the moment she wasn’t pregnant, both times, the renovations had brought it all back; large as life and twice as ugly; she was seriously struggling for breath.
There was nothing else for it, a major cleaning session was overdue to get rid of as much dust as possible, even the sneaky stuff that lurked underneath the bed and behind the cupboards.
Without being a complete slattern, Plot usually had a fairly laid back attitude to housework, but this was not a good time to be a dust bunny. War had been declared and just like with any other war, a war council needed to be called. This was the last stand, Plot had already tried steaming to see if that opened her airways, so if the cleaning didn’t work, she’d have to go to the Doctors, and Plot really hated going to the Doctors.
Plot needed allies, her Lungs were definitely feeling more like Dunkirk than Finest Hour, but she remembered something that Midlife Smarts had mentioned earlier in the week about how housework and stuff could be made much better with the addition of alcohol.
She decided to head round and get a bit more information. Mr Plot was delighted; if Plot was going out this would present an excellent opportunity to raid Plot’s cupboards. Mr Plot knew that there was a secret stash of goodies somewhere and it was his mission in life to find out where it was.
Plot began to suspect that Mr Plot had quite a lot in common with Bryntin, and made a mental note to never let them compare strategies, if she didn’t know better, she might have thought that they already had.
Jill at Midlife Smarts was exceptionally helpful, and was able to tutor Plot in the way’s of hacking her midlife crisis, and could think of nine moments that are better with alcohol, just off the top of her head. Plot was quite impressed.
But Jill had a rather beautiful sofa, and all Plot could think of was not spilling her wine. So bearing in mind what Alice had taught her earlier in the week about a Lutheran Lie, she drank up, thanked Jill for her help, and got on with the busy and important list of ‘things’ that she had planned.
The busy and important things were actually people Plot planned on visiting, and next on the list was Cherie, who had just got a new kitchen gadget, maybe she would have a contraption that would help Plot breath too.
Cherie had all sorts of stuff, it was like a little Aladdin’s cave of kitchen gadgetry which was Plot’s idea of heaven, almost. Absolute heaven, would of course be a really well organised hardware shop, full of useful stuff like nails, and turpentine, and lengths of 2 by 4 that Plot could imagine whacking a few deserving people with. But she was getting distracted, and as happy as she was dreaming about this; funny how she had a ready made list of contenders for the 2×4, it really was time to move on.
Her chest was in a really bad way by this stage, and Plot reckoned that if she coughed any more she’d burst a blood vessel in her head. It was time to get Medieval with the cough, which could mean only one destination.
April told Plot about some 14th Century cures, which to be perfectly honest sounded worse than the condition. Plot wondered just how sick people had to be in order to take this stuff.
“You could try praying to a popular medieval saint” April told her. Plot wondered who the Patron Saint of coughing was, “Who do you suggest?” she asked April, “St Raphael, St Luke or St Blaise? I think they’re all associated with healing? aren’t they?”
She convulsed into another coughing fit.
“I’d try St. Jude myself” said April, packing up her stuff.
“What’s he the Patron Saint of?” Plot called after her
“Lost causes” came the reply on the wind.
It was hopeless, there was nothing else for it, Plot would have to go to the Doc which was one of her least favourite things to do, but on the plus side, the Doctor’s surgery wasn’t too far away from Suzie’s new office, Plot could call in and say hello.
After being prodded a bit, stabbed by a needle, jabbed by something else and generally manhandled – the doc prescribed a nasal spray which she hoped would do the trick. Plot, only too happy to get out the door grabbed the prescription and nearly cantered out of the building and down the street.
“Back up you silly mare” Plot thought to herself realising she had missed the turn for Suzie’s new base. It was very fancy with a glass lift and a receptionist in the foyer. Susie had worked very hard, and it was paying off, her blog had just topped one million views, which was a pretty big deal by anyone’s reckoning.
Plot discreetly checked her own stats, it was as she thought, somewhat short of a million, time to get her nose to the grindstone, then again, she had promised Lorna and Cherie that she would meet them down at the Blogger’s Arms for a drink. Maybe a hot whiskey was exactly what she needed, just like Jill said to begin with. It really had been a funny old day.