Professor Plum, in the Spare Room, with a Palm Tree
- Marina Berry Dealey
- Apr 5, 2020
- 5 min read
So as we enter yet another week in isolation, I thought it was about time I did another entry on this blog of mine. To be fair, at the start of this journey I really thought that writing a blog would be challenging because I would have absolutely nothing to say, due to staying in every single day and seeing nobody but my husband. Turns out, I'm experiencing quite the opposite, which is great. It gives my husband a break from my incessant nagging and I can talk to you instead.
The last 24 hours, considering we haven't left the house, have been somewhat eventful. Yesterday, we decided to BLITZ the entire place. I'm talking getting rid of stuff that's broken, disposing of the various unidentified nuts and bolts we've shoved in a drawer for about 10 years and also throwing away things that had a best before date of June 2016 - (I'm not proud, but I did find some mints with that exact best before date.) We also bagged up A LOT of clothes and shoes we no longer wear, to put in the garage for when this is all over and we can give to charity.
You would think doing some basic novice-level clearing up around the home would be the safest thing you could partake in.
It would appear however, that even in isolation, my husband can manage to almost knock himself unconscious and just about escape having to be taken to A&E.
Justin is 6 foot 3 and has always been a clumsy oaf. One of the incidents that sticks in my mind even 14 years later, was when we were enjoying a holiday in Greece and he went up from the beach to get some toasted sandwiches. I called out the phrase my husband hates with a passion "Bring some ketchup" (he hates the stuff.)
He comes back wielding a HUGE GLASS bottle of ketchup. "I was hoping for some sachets" I exclaimed, baffled at the family sized glass bottle he'd opted to bring for a sandwich the size of a beer mat. You know the biggest bottle of ketchup HEINZ make? That one. Long story short, at the end of the afternoon we packed up and carried our stuff to our room. I had the beach bag and towels, while Justin carried the ketchup. A delegation in hindsight, gravely misjudged by me.
He had one job.
En route, the tomato ketchup bottle slips out of his sweaty hands and onto the white MARBLE hotel floor. Making matters ten times worse was the extremely serious looking corporate meeting going on through the archway, and I would love to say the incident went unnoticed, but that would be a lie. Needless to say, the floor was reminiscent of a scene from CSI, and the ketchup had also splattered up Justin's legs. It was the stuff of nightmares.
Another time, he managed to get himself locked in a toilet in Majorca, and ended up climbing out of the window and JUMPING down from the roof like Spiderman into the entrance of the restaurant's kitchen, traumatising the unsuspecting kitchen staff.
You see what I have to deal with. I mean, I'm also not exactly innocent in the clumsy stakes. During my lifetime I've fallen down a drain, had my bare foot stamped on by a horse, been scratched violently by a monkey in a forest and fallen off a child's bouncy castle needing stitches.
I digress. Back to last night. I was quite happily sorting through the 55 bronzers and endless amounts of hair grips when I hear a blood curdling scream. I also screamed, and ran downstairs screaming Justin's name, to find him lying on the floor, face down, like a scene from Cluedo. Justin, doing a great job of portraying Professor PLUM. A palm tree shaped steel ornament had unexpectedly fallen out of the top of the wardrobe and straight onto his head. This, I have to point out, only became remotely funny once we realised he was ok.
And funny it was.
I saw to his head and made sure he was ok, but being a massive worrier by nature, later that night I insisted on googling 111 and did some online questions just to make sure. Obviously I didn't want to call 111 knowing how busy they are at the moment and their online service is SO good.
By the end of these online questions though, I'm very pleased to report the only thing needing stitches were my sides.
I may have got a few words wrong here and there but the overall tone of the questions was the same.
There were normal regular questions such as "Have you been assaulted? Yes, No, Don't Know" Justin had to really think about this one because, let's face it, he WAS assaulted. In quite a shocking and unexpected manner in fact. Unfortunately though, there wasn't an option for "Yes - by a palm tree hiding in the top of the wardrobe" so naturally, we answered "No".
In hindsight, it was probably time to call it a day with the questions when I read out the following.
"Can you still move your jaw? Yes, No, I don't know"
I look over at him for a response, and he has a ginger nut biscuit in each hand and what looked like another one already in his mouth. He's chomping away on it, crunching down noisily on every nutty bite evidently without issue. Before he could reply "what are the options again?" I said "I'm pretty satisfied your jaw is in full working order mate."
*I'd also like to point out that these biscuits were bought for me to help my morning sickness at the start of my pregnancy and Justin's eaten the lot. This was way before the isolation frustration, so no, he simply cannot use that excuse.*
Next question.
"Is the cut longer than an inch in length? Yes, No, Don't Know"
I'm not into guessing how big an inch is, so I grabbed a ruler and it was at this point you'd have been forgiven for thinking I was measuring him for a new hat.
(By the way for those of you who are fans of The Office, I felt like David Brent interviewing Keith throughout this process. "Always the same...")
"Did the object knock you to the floor? Yes, no, I don't know"
Suddenly my mood changes. "You were on the floor when I came in" I remembered, suddenly concerned again.
"Yes" he replies.
"So it DID knock you to the floor" I exclaim.
"Well yeah" he replies looking worried.
"....but I was already laying on the floor when it hit me"
Very pleased to say, 24 hours later, Justin is fine and the palm tree ornament has been well and truly banished from the house for its crimes to humanity. He finally polished off the last remaining few ginger nut biscuits I had, and I now know how long an inch is. A lot can happen in isolation in 24 hours.
Over that time, I have nursed him, cooked him dinner, lunch, made him countless cups of tea... I'm beginning to think he might be cleverer than I gave him credit for and that the whole palm tree incident was a set up.
I'm now on a mission to find the red marker pen he used on his head.
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