My sister has been staying with us for the last few days.
She’s been living the life of a nomad of late as she gets back into the swing of working as a locum pharmacist. In the past two months she’s been tending to the sick of Bundoran, Sligo and Ballywater. With Belfast being closer to Ballywalter than Lurgan she’s moved in with us for a week to give herself a bit more time in bed.
Speaking of bed, it’s amazing what you forget from growing up.
Sian reminded me this week how I used to set her ridiculous challenges when she was too young to know any better.
When she was younger Sian was the opposite of the Princess and the Pea. Not one to be deterred by discomfort Sian claimed to be able to sleep in the most bizarre places.
One night I challenged her to sleep in the footwell under her dresser. On another occasion she slept on a mattress made from books.
Then one night I pushed it too far, challenging her to sleep on a clothes horse. Needless to say my mother was none too pleased. Not only could it have ended in disaster, but she’d been left with nowhere to dry our school uniforms.
It’s actually quite nice having Sian about the house. Plus it’s good practice for babysitting. I’m not saying Sian behaves like a child. She’s more of an unruly teenager.
Inevitably, Sian’s presence in the house has got me behaving like my dad.
She went out on Friday night to meet a few of her friends for drinks. I checked that she had a key and told her we’d probably be in bed when she got home.
Despite my best efforts to play it cool, I couldn’t help but worry about her as the hours ticked by. Eventually tiredness got the better of me and I fell asleep.
The next morning I saw Sian’s door was shut so I assumed she was home safely. Not one to let sleeping dogs lie, I knocked the door and entered.
“What time did you get in at?” I asked.
“You sound just like dad,” she replied.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said.
“You still sound like dad,” she said.
“By the way, you left the light on in the hall,” I scolded.
“Shut up, Graeme,” said Sian.
And then I spotted something which made my heart stop. I followed the trail of clothes leading to the bed and discovered that Sian had not slept alone. I slowly regained my composure and considered the implications of the sight before my eyes.
“What do you think you’re playing at?” I shouted, pointing at her bulky bedfellow.
“I thought you’d be impressed,” said Sian, gingerly.
I shook my head, removed the clothes horse from the bed and reminded her of the dangers of childish horseplay.
Lurgan Mail advertising executive Louise Gordon ended up with a rather embarrassing ailment last week.
She decided to have a sunbed session but forgot to properly protected her posterior. The long and the short of it was she ended up with a badly burnt behind.
When recounting the story to yours truly, she said, “I’m so embarrassed.”
Well, that explains the red cheeks.
A quick call
I phoned my mate the other day and asked him if he wanted to go out for a few pints.
He declined, saying he was away to rack and ruin. I asked if that was anywhere near Torremolinos, but he didn’t see the funny side.
The answer to last week’s teaser was: the band played for both England and West Germany at the 1966 World Cup Final.
Here’s this week’s teaser: The guard of an open prison was given strict instructions not to allow any prisoner to leave the prison without release papers or to allow anyone to visit the prison without written permission from the governor. The guard watched over a long path which was the only way in or out of the prison. He knew it would take anyone at least 10 minutes to walk the path and so he checked it every five minutes. How did a prisoner make a successful escape despite having no release papers?