I Have Henry's Socks In My Handbag.

After messing about with Walter's sausages I rang the hospital and found out that H had been moved to a respiratory ward so after eating another part of the pig (bacon sarnie) I tootled up there.
He was on the edge of the bed in a flashy blue backless number, red in cheek with some plastic tubing in his nostrils.
"Hello Angie" he snorkled
"Hello you" I grinned
And so we sat... Me watching as he ate two of the oranges I'd brought him.
"Thank you darling, I can't find my glasses and these socks are no good..." The rest of the conversation went very much along those lines. He doesn't like the doctors or the people around him, he distrusts the food and he wants to come home.
"I'll get myself out of here" he said worryingly
"No don't do that Henry" I said sipping on the insipid tea nursie had brought.
He went on and on in a frantic manner, talking nonsense about carpets, boilers, new sofas, parties, lime green paint and his glasses. I felt like a member of a crowd who had gathered to hear the rantings and preachings of a town centre preacher. Only this preacher used expletives.

After an hour his daughter arrived and both she and I were asked to leave for a bit whilst a scan was taken of something or other. A little while later we were back by his side and he was attempting to peel yet another orange.
After some chit chat about the daughters work and weekend she left, leaving me with dad.
"I'm feeling a bit knackered now" said H
"And that's my cue to hop it is it?" I piped up, in as cheery a fashion as I could muster. It had been a hardish two hours with him and for him, but I think a little good came out of it.

On the drive home I hoped that after this scare Henry would finally see sense and stop smoking and limit his drinking to a glass or two of wine, because if he doesn't one day his body will do what so many have done, refuse to work for him...

He can be a cantankerous man with a brattish cruel streak, a man who is impatient not only with himself but with everyone and the whole damn world. But he can also be funny and helpful and has just about the most infectious, rudest, and out and out exhausting sense of humour of anyone I've ever met. All in all he's an almighty pain, but a pain I can deal with, providing there are islands of relief, such as text free weekends and call free nights!

Tomorrow after some much needed fun shopping John and I will visit him and I will take along a pair of glasses I found behind his bar and another pair of socks because the ones he's wearing feel 'awkward'...

Cooking tonight: Not a clue.