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| The Land Of Dreams |
As a child I read Enid Blyton’s “The Magic Faraway Tree”.
I remember thoroughly enjoying it but feeling afraid when the land at the top
of the tree changed. In ‘The Land of Dreams’ everything that happened was very dream-like and unreal and there
was confusion as the characters tried to work out where they were and how they
could get back down the tree…
The supermarket occasionally moves sections around so that
we are forced to actively look at all their different products rather than
heading like an automaton to what we actually went in there for. It was for
this reason that I found myself unnecessarily in the cat food section.
An elderly lady turned to me and said “Look, mouse!” This
instantly unsettled me; serving as a reminder of an unfortunate experience with
a mouse (which I shall come to shortly).
Pardon?” I asked.
“Mouse. Mouse flavoured cat food.” She said pointing at a
gourmet variety tin.
I looked at the tin in question and said “No, it’s not
mouse, it’s mousse.”
“Moose flavoured cat food, oh!” she exclaimed.
“No, it’s salmon mousse. Salmon that’s light and frothy.”
I said, wondering how I came to be an authority on cat food.
“Oh, I see” she replied “My kitty doesn’t like salmon,
she does like mice though, she’s always bringing them into the house.”
This last remark brought the mouse experience back to me
with full force:
I had been at a friend’s house when her cat brought a
mouse in which then escaped. After much futile chasing with towels and
cardboard boxes it was me who cornered the mouse. I reached out to pick it up
and it bit me. It sunk it’s little yellow teeth into my finger and didn’t let
go, it’s feisty little body was swinging from my finger. We managed to release it’s
grip and let the ungrateful rodent back into the garden.
The next day my finger was rather swollen and sore and,
with some reservation about appearing overly dramatic, phoned the doctor. Far
from being dismissive, she said that I should go to the hospital Accident and
Emergency unit.
I approached the front desk at the hospital and rather
sheepishly announced that a mouse had bitten my finger.
“What kind of mouse was it?” asked the receptionist.
“Erm, I don’t know.” I admitted “It was sort of fawn
coloured with a white tummy.”
“Did your finger bleed?” she asked.
“No, fortunately it didn’t.” I replied.
“Oh. That’s not fortunate. It would have been better if
it had. Take a seat and someone will be right with you.”
I took a seat and a nurse came and sat next to me with a
form on a clipboard.
“So, you’ve been bitten by a mouse and it didn’t draw
blood is that right?” she asked.
I nodded nervously.
“We’ll need to give you an injection of hmnnhunheesssin
which contains human products. We need you to sign this form to indicate your
acceptance of this.” She explained.
I had never heard of anything like this before. It
sounded revolting. They were obviously taking this matter very seriously. I
signed the form and she led me to a booth, drew the curtains across and said “Right,
this needs to be injected into your thigh. Could you lower your trousers for
me?”
I did as she asked and stood there with my trousers down
feeling vulnerable, cold and more than a little bit scared while she prepared
the injection.
I heard a loud voice from the other side of the curtains
saying “It fell out last night and I couldn’t get an appointment until next
week!”
Then suddenly a nurse thrust her head between the
curtains of my booth and shouted “Look! I’m Nanny McPheeeeeee!!!” and displayed
a wide gap at the front of her teeth.
I remember very little after that.
Just like in Enid Blyton’s the “Magic Faraway Tree”;
sometimes you start in one place and unexpectedly end up somewhere completely
different.
