I’m so cranky that I can’t even think properly. Instead of gently tapping at my keyboard I am bashing at it in anger. Every time I bang the wrong key (and that happens a lot when you bash they keyboard) I get angrier.

I have been snappy with my son and my husband. In fact Mr Pencil very wisely left the house to go do some or other fitness class or we’d most likely be fighting now or wishing divorce upon each other.

Poor Little Pencil has been witness to the very shortest of tempers. My last words to him before he fall asleep were something along the lines of “shut up”

I’m not proud. But I am very, very hungry.

Today has been a fast day. Day one on The Fast Diet in fact. It’s the new trendy diet to follow and you all know

a) how I’m feeling about my weight and

b) how trendy I am

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The science in the book made perfect sense to me (but then so did the science in The Secret) and I am convinced that I can do wonderful things for my fatty liver and pre diabetic body by giving my cells a chance to rest and repair.

Obviously I love the fact that other than offering respite to my cells I stand to lose some weight.

But the thing that got me over the line was that the diet promises that I can eat anything I like for the five days I am not fasting.  Could there be a greater lure for someone who loves  food so much?

Anyway today one of the two fast days and I have been reminded what hunger is all about. I’ve been allowed 500 calories today – that means 2 boiled eggs, a cup of instant (and hideous soup), a tiny tortilla warp with salad in it and a cup of raspberries.  That is not a lot of food,

That is the amount of food that leads me to be a very cranky person tonight. But tomorrow is close…. And breakfast is planned.

Hold me readers as I try get through tonight without losing my shit.

At the very same time that my hair experienced its dirtiest day ever I awoke to find that we had no hot water.  And it gets worse – I had just hosted a mammoth lunch (well we didn’t serve mammoth but you get the drift) and we had lots of washing to do – washing of platters that don’t fit in dishwashers. And to add insult to injury Little Pencil had a very sore tummy and it’s a known fact that nothing works better on a sore stomach than a hot bath.

But the taps were cold. Freezing in fact. Could it be possible that the cold water in the taps was colder than normal? Because it certainly felt that way.

It was raining and hideous outside and perhaps because of the weather or maybe because it was a public holiday, no one wanted to come over and tinker with our hot water system. We phoned plumbers, gas people, friends, family, people who knew plumbers, I even suggested we phone a friend who is an electrician “just in case”.  All of a sudden no one needed the money – the plumbing economy is obviously very good if you can just say “tomorrow” to a crying man. (Mr Pencil was hyperventilating at the thought of missing his VERY long shower).

I filled the kettle about 56 times to fill the bath. It was too rainy to go to a friend for a shower and it was quite an interesting experiment to see how many kettles it takes to fill the bath. It’s a lot in case you’re interested. I washed my hair in a puddle and the rest of the family went to bed dirty.  That would serve the plumber right when he came the next day and everybody stank.

I went to work and Mr Pencil arranged to meet the plumber. He called me after the deed was done and explained some very complex story about power points and outages and things that I didn’t care about. Bottom line – it was fixed, hot water was flowing in abundance from our taps.

That is until I got home from work and switched the tap on. Nothing. Not nothing really – but nothing hot, or even warm.

I called the plumbing company – they told me it was fixed. I told them it might have been fixed at some point but it wasn’t working now.  She said she’s get the plumber to call me back.
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15 minutes later I called her back. I am not very patient.  She told me she’d call me as soon as she had heard from the plumber, he’d come back tomorrow.  “oh no”, I said. “I’m not waiting till tomorrow – I’m cold and a little smelly”.  She said she’d call back later.

It was 5:30, I called her again.

I called her at 6:00 and then 6:15. At 6:30 I might have mentioned the Department of Fair Trading.

At around 6:45 Mr Pencil seethed into the house. He stomped off check the power point where the plumber had been working.

It was switched off.

NICE Mr Plumber. Very Nice. Do you know how hard it was for me to call back and eat humble pie? But surely you check the power before you leave?

I’m not what you would call an adventurous person.  I thrive on routine, I like to know what’s happening next, I need to know where things are and how they work, I am one of those people that goes to a restaurant and orders the same thing every time because I know I like it.

This behaviour has earned me the moniker of fun-phobic in my family.  A term coined by my sister and husband when we were holidaying in the Gold Coast one year and I refused to go into Infinity World (if I’m not sounding fun enough allow me to add claustrophobia to my list of characteristics).

I don’t understand the point of roller coasters, I like firm ground beneath me and I’m perfectly happy in the safety of my bed surfing the internet. Fun huh?

But recently I went to Mauritius on a media trip and in my efforts to make the most of my trip and not to appear a complete anti-social leper I joined in on every activity. I gobbled my fear and I walked UNDER the ocean (well I stumbled and was white with fear and I counted the seconds till it was over but I still did it), I rode a bike on the roads as if I were Lance Armstrong (without the drugs) and I even parasailed.  In short I dropped my fun phobic mantle and I donned a Super Woman cape. Just for a few days.

And now I am in Phuket and my husband has been talking about the number one tourist destination as if he is in fact the Trip Advisor app.  According to Mr Pencil, who studies Trip Advisor in his spare time and quotes it at any given opportunity, the Flying Hanuman is the one place that we HAD to visit while we were here. According to the pamphlets it is “an adventure like no other on Phuket. It shows that the island’s beauty goes far beyond the sea, sun and sand that it is famous for”.  According to me it is an absolutely mind boggling set of zip lines that thread through the trees like a spider web on crack.

And so we set off for the rain forests of Phuket to fly through the trees. The very, very, very high trees. And I had to act like I was still in Mauritius and I was no longer fun phobic.  Eek.

I have been told on occasion that I am good with words but I actually don’t have the words to describe the height of the trees in which these zip lines were set so again I will refer to the brochure – 40 metres!  Yes I was expected to jump off a platform 40 metres off the ground and “sail” to the next platform 100 metres away. Oh about 16 times.  Don’t forget I am the same person that loves to lie in my bed and surf the net.
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My sister, her husband and her son seemed to think that this was an every day experience. Not that they weren’t awed by the spectacle of the rain forest and exhilarated by the experience of soaring across the forest – because they were but they just jumped off the platforms and flew. My son, well he has no fear. None at all. He did a couple of the lines upside down and was all hands in the air and beaming with delight. I screamed a lot.  Not so much the excited screams of my son and my sister who were positively whooping with joy but the screams of a very frightened person who was thinking back to the safety of her fun phobic days.  My stomach may or may not be still in the forests.  But I have to tell you (from the safety of my bed where I am writing this post) that it was amazing. Exhilarating even.

And then there was my husband. Mr Pencil is scared of heights. Or rather he is petrified of heights in that very irrational way that some people are scared of clowns or my niece is scared of mandarins (interesting family?). He had decided to try the course because he loves Trip Advisor very deeply and also because he thought Little Pencil would absolutely love it and he is a very good father.

Fear is a very strong emotion. It can almost root you to a platform 40 metres above the ground and it can cause you to completely stop talking to the people around you. At least that’s what it did for Mr Pencil today. He became slightly catatonic – going through the motions VERY SLOWLY  (well as slowly as you can soar through the air) and refusing to engage in any conversation at all.  Grunts were produced at some points and at one stage he managed to shout that no one should try talk to him.  But he did it. He overcame his fear for the sake of Trip Advisor and Little Pencil. No that’s not true – he didn’t overcome his fear at all but he did manage to complete the course.*

And just like that – for one hour today I became the second most adventurous person in my little family of three. And it was awesome

Here’s Little Pencil just cruising

*there is no way out of it – if you can’t do it you have to live the rest of your days out in the trees because there is no other way to get back down.

You know that old saying “while the cat’s away the mouse will play”? Well my cat is away… You see Mr Pencil is away at a conference for five days leaving me, Little Pencil and Fluffy Pencil to play.

What does this mean you ask?

• We get to eat two minute noodles for dinner. One night I was pushed to cook – we had scrambled eggs
• There is NO washing up from two minute noodles. Well one bowl, one spoon. The scrambled egg night was not as pleasant
• I only have to make one bed – Little Pencil, Fluffy Pencil and I all share a bed
• I get to drive his fancy car and pretend it’s mine
• I get to put on fake tan without being told I stink (Little Pencil has a very bad sense of smell)
• I get to have a break from watching sport on TV
• The bathroom is all mine in the morning.
• I can close the bedroom window (Mr Pencil has this odd belief that we need fresh air)

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But in reality I miss him. Even when I speak to him every day and he’s only gone for 5 days

• I miss eating dinner as a family
• I miss him taking the dog for a walk
• I miss him encouraging Little Pencil to get ready for school in the morning
• I miss shouting at him that I also need some space in the bathroom
• I miss the sound of the TV in the lounge
• I miss him nagging me to switch off my laptop and go to bed
• My cursor has disappeared on my screen and I miss him fixing it for me
• I miss him walking through the door

God I’m lucky that I get to miss him even if he’s only gone for 5 days. I know how lucky I am and I hope he does too

Vegas is quite simply mad. Mad insane and ridiculously huge.

I had heard a lot about Vegas from friends and I had read even more. That’s not even including the movies I have seen.  And as if that was not enough I had youtubed every possible aspect of Vegas before we left (I was a very excited traveller).

Nothing could have prepared me for Vegas. Nothing. Not even Vegas could prepare me for Vegas.

It is HUGE. Huge and insane.

And there are a couple of things it seems to have forgotten

• It is in a middle of a desert
• Climate change
• Global warming
• Starving people

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All around you nothing at all – just desert.  Perhaps the mafia and the builders of the Hoover Dam took this into account when they decided to build a city but I think not. I think they also forgot that they were in America.  This is how I imagine a conversation between the architects and builder of Vegas (Vegas) and the desert may have gone (Desert)

Vegas:             Let’s build the tallest hotels that we can

Desert:            But there is no water and no rain, how are we going to service these hotels ?

Vegas:             We will get money from gamblers and water from dams. And bottles

Desert:            Okay we can get tall buildings plumbed and I guess we can get some gamblers in but I am looking to you for inspiration on shape.

Vegas:             Me? Don’t look at Me. Look at the world around you. We want Paris, we want New York, hell we’ll take the whole of Italy and stash it in a corner next to a gold soaring tower. Oh and I want Egypt, a pyramid and a sphinx included. And down the road? A volcano that erupts every hour.

I also want a billion lights per square meter and don’t forget I want more slot machines than lights.   And while I am at it I want ice sculptures in the lobbies of some of my hotels.

Desert:            But I am a desert. You cannot sustain ice in a desert

Vegas:             I’m Vegas baby.

Desert:            No seriously, we are in the middle of a desert, it doesn’t rain and you want lights that never switch off, you want roller coasters on the top of buildings, you want a canal with gondola rides and that’s before we get to the whacky stuff.

Vegas:             What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

Desert:            Stop with the Vegas sayings and think about what you are asking of me?

Vegas:             *Calls in mafia and gets rid of desert to create insane playground*

We had a ball. Seriously as soon as we let go of the guilt of the flamboyance in the middle of the dessert we sucked it right up. Our Hotel was like nothing I have ever seen before – we stayed at the Pallazo at the Venetian and there truly was a gondola ride through the canals of the Venice which just so happened to be in the lobby of the hotel. Our room was magnificent, the pool was perfect and my son thought he would be happy if we never actually left the hotel but when we did there was so much to delight and astound him. And us.

The Fountains at the Bellagio.

The most spectacular display that you have ever seen every half an hour during the night. Dancing fountains choreographed to music on a scale unlike anything I have ever seen before.

The Volcano at the Mirage

Every hour on the hour after 8pm up until midnight.

An amazing show where a volcano erupts in front of you – it includes running lava, fire and spectacular effects.

Treasure Island

Two shows a night. A singing and dancing extravaganza with pirates and fireworks.

M&M World

Imagine all the M&Ms in the world in one place. That’s M&M world, now just imagine every single bit of M&M merchandising that you can and you are pretty close. Little Pencil had M&Ms printed with his name on them. Win! He also now owns a lot of M&M “stuff” everything from lip balm to a slot machine where you get to win M&Ms.

Shopping Centre entertainment

We were sitting minding our own business when the HUGE fish tank in front of us went black and from the top who should appear but Zeus. The centre court turned into an amazing show between fire and water – all mediated by Zeus of course. Spectacular effects, very cool show and er, very Vegas.

The hotels

Just walking through the hotels is entertainment for almost anyone with their senses, you can see the pyramids of Egypt, the sidewalks of New York, the cobbled piazzas of Italy and opulence. Lots of it. Also shops. Insane amounts of high end shops that I could not afford to walk into.

Gondola Ride

We rode a gondola through the lobby of our hotel which was niftily disguised as the canals of Venice, complete with the ceilings painted to look like the sky – it’s not just in the casino where you can lose sense of time. It was awesome – although my son and husband had to try very hard not to laugh when the gondolier sang in Italian. It didn’t work

Food

We ate spectacular food. Interestingly enough my favourite meal was at Serendipity of all places. We had gone to try the frozen hot chocolate which is world famous (and deservedly so) but I ate grilled artichokes which were sublime.  Want to go back for them.  I also had the most delicious vegetarian hamburger (eggplant) at a place aptly named I Love Burgers.  It’d hard to find a vegie burger that is not made of beans or chickpeas so this was particularly delicious.

Shows

We made it downtown to see a show – the Mike Hammer comedy/magic show which was hilarious and entertaining and Mike (you can call him Mr Hammer if you like but I am comfortable with Mike) was amazing. Spoke to his audience every step of the way and included Little Pencil in one of his tricks which was the cherry on the top.

Don’t know how comfortable I felt in downtown Vegas but I am glad we went to the show.  Outside of the theatre we saw the “other side” of Vegas, and what gambling and excess can mean to the real people – not the tourists who come to give their money away at the strip.  Not pretty. Sad even.

Grand Canyon

The lights and the intoxicating city had us enraptured and it was hard to pull away from it so I’m glad that we booked for our helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon before we got there.

If there are no words for the sight and spectacle of the big lights and excess of Vegas there are not even utterances for the majesty and spectacle of the Grand Canyon. We went on a helicopter tour of the Canyon and the awesomeness of Mother Nature and the sheer vast expanse of the Grand Canyon is something that will live with me forever.

The helicopter pilot was friendly and informative but perhaps most importantly he was also ex air force so I felt supremely comfortable and confident, but I think the sheer magnificence of what we saw would have overridden any fear had I succumbed to it. The tour was expensive but I would have gladly gone without meals for a day or so (and I LOVE my food) to indulge myself with this vision of one of the Great Wonders of the World.

The helicopter took us right to the Grand Canyon and then landed at the bottom where we were served a picnic lunch and champagne.  Seriously. Go there if you can.  You don’t have to be a very spiritual person but it is hard not to feel some connection with the world with this miracle of nature surrounding you.  It is also about as far away from Vegas as you can get – theoretically.  Like Vegas would be if she were a desert…um, not going there.

Loved loved loved Vegas. Much more than I had thought I would and interestingly my 10 year old thought it was awesome. Much more fun than New York…..

My husband has a strange obsession with the weather. Not the actual outdoor weather but the weather online, he loves to check the weather on the computer – I think the Bureau of Meteorology is his firm favourite but it is certainly not his only source.  He has also  tuned our Foxtel Weather Channel (yes there is such a thing) to our suburb so that we get accurate weather report for the conditions just above our heads.

This obsession with weather watching has caused a fair few minor arguments for instance there was the time that he was going to sand the deck.  In order to sand the deck you need pristine weather conditions. Every day I would look up at the very blue sky and suggest today might be a good day. Mr Pencil would retreat indoors check the weather online and say “sorry no can do today, there is rain forecast”

“But it is 32 degreees and there is not a single cloud in the sky” I would protest.

“NO, the Bureau of Meteorology says that it may rain”

And on this went for weeks until it did eventually rain because if you wait long enough it will always rain.

Our deck remained unsanded.

He has cancelled outings, rearranged holidays and planned parties according to  conditions that he has read on some weather chart. I often laugh at him while pointing to the sky or the fact that we can go outside and actually FEEL the temperature.

And then last week I woke up really early. I was getting ready to take the dog for a walk and as I reached for my jumper I thought I would check the weather on my phone. I am still unsure why I felt this urge.  Really, it is not something I have ever done before in the morning and I always wake up early to take the dog for a walk.  Maybe after 20  years of marriage my husband had rubbed off on me as I slept. I checked the weather and it said 27 degrees.
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I was a bit sad that I could not wear the jumper I had planned on and I did think for a second how strange it was that winter was over so quickly and I hadn’t worn that jumper nearly enough.

I went for a walk and froze but reckoned that it was early and we would reach 27 later in the day.

When my son couldn’t locate his jumper I told him not to worry – surely he would not need his jumper on such a warm day.

At lunchtime when I left the office to get some food from across the road I commented on the fact that it was raining and freezing. I felt icy inside and out (the memory of me telling my son not to bother taking a jumper was making even my soul freeze) .

How could this online weather have got it SO wrong? Seriously it was freezing cold and teeming with rain. The phone had clearly said it would be clear and sunny. 27 degrees it had promised.

I checked again. Indeed it was 27 degrees in Los Angeles.  In Sydney however it was 11 and raining both in real life and on my phone.

Pity I had forgotten to check  that tiny detail called location.

There are some people who love the city. I’m not one if then. I’m not sure why I didn’t think about this today when I toddled off to the city for some retail therapy.

I was quite excited to have a morning to myself. Delighted in fact. I thought I would go to the city and suddenly I’d be transformed into the Westfield poster girl. I’d be tall and thin with legs stretched by the most adept photoshopper and I’d stride purposefully through the shops designer bags swinging by my sides. Yes. I am an advertisers wet dream.

I drove there. First mistake. I think that the Westfield poster girl gets dropped at the centre by a driver who actually knows the way there. I, on the other hand, got myself to somewhere in the vicinity of the parking stopped halfway through an intersection and phoned my husband to ask for his help. The conversation was very difficult, not only because he was having his hair cut at the time but also because I was trying to slide down the seat and pretend that my huge 4 wheel drive was not nestled amongst the pedestrians on George street.

Eventually I found the parking and had to spiral down to the centre of the earth to find an actual spot. I retained my cool. If cool means a hand clenched on the steering wheel and rising panic expressed as hiccups.

My second mistake was to go to the city on a very busy Saturday morning when the rest of Sydney had made the same decision. I realised as I battled my through a horde of spectators who were watching a busker play air guitar really badly that I don’t particularly like people en masse. I mean I like my friends and my family (most of them anyway) and I even meet strangers that I don’t recoil from. But in crowds, I do not like them.

My intention was to go to Zara. This was my third mistake. I expected Zara to be an elegant shopping mecca where all the clothes would not only suit me, but fit me perfectly and fall within my budget. I expected to come out of there overflowing with shopping bags a la Westfield model. Instead I came out clutching my chest and looking for air. There was no air – just throngs of people watching buskers.

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As I walked away from Zara dazed, confused and with not a single dollar spent I made my way to find the Metalicus store only to find that Westfield have come up with a brilliant new shopping directory, they only show you the names of the three most popular shops on their information board. Needless to say Metalicus is not one of their most popular shops. The reason it is not one of the most popular shops may well be because it is hidden very well. But I found it. I also found that the staff in the shop did not want to sell me anything. I think it may be because they like their merchandise so much they don’t want to part with it. But I soldiered on and found myself a tank top that I loved. It looked vaguely familiar but I thought that was just because I had imagined in my mind’s eye the perfect top to wear under almost anything and now I had manifested it in my head.

I went to the change room to try it on and it was only there that I realised the top that I was taking off to try on the new one was in fact the exact same garment as the one in my hand! I blushed, thanked my lucky stars that no-one had made eye contact with me and left.

I battled my way through more people, lots of prams, loud people urging me to sign petitions, small children crying, noisy people shopping, messy people eating, lonely people reading, angry people fighting, greedy people shoving.

What felt like 5 long days later (but was in fact only just over an hour) I returned to my car, paid the equivalent of a day’s salary to get out of the parking and drove around the city for ages looking for the way home.

There really is no place like home. Everything is where it’s meant to be, there are only three people there most of the time, the pace is a whole lot more manageable, the air is easier to breathe and while I know that I can’t be the Westfield model I can still shop online.

My husband sometime lovingly refers to me as “his grandfather’s axe”.  The first couple of times that he did this I thought he was rather insane, perhaps a little delusional after all I I know I’m sharp but I always thought I was more pencil than axe.

But the thing is I wasn’t always a pencil and the story of the grandfather’s axe is quite beautiful

There was a man who inherited an axe from his father – he loved the axe dearly (as he had loved his father) and he looked after the axe lovingly and with care but time passed and the blade started to lose its keen edge and then little chinks appeared on the edge of the blade.  So the man had the blade replaced and continued to cherish his father’s beautiful axe.

When this man died he left his prized axe to his son who cared for the axe just as carefully as his father had but the axe was old and the handle  eventually broke, so the son replaced the handle and continued to cherish his father’s beautiful axe.

And when he died he passed on his grandfather’s axe to his son… but was it even the same axe? In essence no – no part of it was the grandfather’s “actual” axe but in spirit is was the very same axe his grandfather had loved.

So I am Mr Pencil’s axe – a rather different person to the one that I was when we married which is understandable really given that we have been married like forever.  But I have really changed and I am lucky enough to see it and appreciate it.

The life I am living now is eons away from the lives I have led previously and I don’t say that in an esoteric, “I have been reincarnated” kind of way I mean simply that the day to day of my life is as completely different from how it was 20 years ago or even 2 years ago.

These lives that I refer to aren’t even the childhood versions of me – it is the adult me who has had her handle chopped off and her blade replaced.  Not just once.

So I am taking this opportunity to write to my old life …just the one before this one

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I know that you come and read my blog from time to time and as I am not sure where else to find you hanging around these days, I though I’d write you a letter. As you do.

You see Old Life, I’ve been dying to tell you what’s been going on although I am sure you wont believe it.  I also want you to know that it got better.  A lot better.  And aside from a few of the lessons that you taught me I don’t miss you a lot.  In fact I don’t think that I miss you at all.

You know I work in the most amazing job don’t you? I get to be creative and I get to write and I work with the most awesome people Every. Single. Day. You remember that girl crush I had on Mia Freedman ? – ha, I get to see her every day and not only do I work with her, but I count her as a good friend.  Bet you never thought that would happen. In fact I can see you screwing up your face in disbelief.

And I laugh at that. In fact I laugh a lot, just in general.

I remember sitting with you and trying to find the perfect job, writing lists of wishes and dreams and pros and cons.  Chasing the very wrong people to try and find validation in work that would never fulfill me.  That ultimately would not validate me.  And I remember you telling  me that I should stick with that job, that it was going to be the only one I could do.

You remember that commitment issue I had and how the thought of having to be somewhere every day would kill me?  I laugh at that too.  In fact until I had to tell you about it, I hadn’t given it any thought. I don’t sit at home so much anymore.

You know how you once tried to make me believe that what we had was as good as it got? That things were infinitely better than the other lives that came before you? You were right – they were way better then they were before, but not nearly as good as they are now.

And I couldn’t be happier

I knew last week was going to be hard

Mamamia 3.0 had just gone live and there was lot of behind the scenes scurrying and hard work involved.  I hadn’t had much sleep because of said site going live and my extreme control freakishness.

It was still school holidays and although I had Little Pencil booked into a camp that he was thrilled about going to there was a lot of juggling required to get him there on time and of course to make sure he got home.

There was going to be two nights of Passover.  While we are not religious at all (and that is a post for another day) we are traditional so we were having two nights of HUGE dinners with insane amounts of people.  I was having the second night at my house, there were more than 20 people coming for dinner and I was working that day. 

So I organized myself.  Lifts were arranged for Little Pencil, work was on track and I was going to spend the whole weekend shopping, cooking and preparing so that I could come home from work on Tuesday and seamlessly entertain 23  people for dinner.

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My mother-in-law’s partner, a gentle and wonderful man who had been partner to my mother in law for ten very happy years died suddenly. He was 89.

Saturday was spent at my mother-in-law, consoling her, preparing tea and cake for the hundreds of people who came through her door to pay their respects.  I  momentarily thought about how I was going to manage catering for 23 people on the Tuesday night but it was not top of mind.  And when it worried me I thought I would cook on Sunday.

On Saturday night the phone rang again.  My friend’s mother had ended a hideous struggle with a devastating disease.

So I never got to cook much, I never got to go to work much either but I spent time with my family. I sat with my friend whose mother had died and I didn’t worry about how I was going to organize everything.

It was a sad week. A hard week.  A week that taught me that at the end of the day it’s not work or dinner parties or school holiday activities that are important.  It’s family and good friends – they make the difference between  life and death.

There is a whooping cough epidemic sweeping across Little Pencil’s school. 5 children in his class have had it and who knows how many cases there are in the school. Well actually I do because the school are very diligent and report every case to the patents

In fact they are so diligent that the nurse has briefed them on how to sneeze (into their elbows) when to wash their hands (after meals and on returning to class) .  They are so diligent that they have even briefed the children on signs and symptoms to look out for.

It was after this briefing that Little Pencil came home and had serious words with me.  “Mom” he said. “ You have a cold.”

I was nonplussed. I do have a cold. You don’t have to be too smart to tell that. My bright red nose and the stream of tissues in my wake puts paid to that. “You need to have a throat swab” he continued “a cold is one of the first symptoms of whooping cough”

He was very serious and quote concerned. He has learned well. And because I am a neurotic hypochondriac who only wants to make her son happy I decided to go to the doctor.

My regular doctor is away and my other regular doctor (see I told you I am a hypochondriac) works too far away for me to be bothered travelling to when I am not feeling great.  So, I trotted off to the local medical centre.

Dr Wiki (as I like to refer to her) sat me down and asked me why I was there.

I explained about the whooping cough at school and my symptoms.  She asked me if the school had given the children a brochure.  They had in fact emailed one to us and  I told her so thinking I would get extra health points for having a diligent centre of education for my son.  “Do you have it with you? “ she asked.  I told her that I didn’t but they were the same as the ones I had seen in the waiting room.  I was beginning to wonder why on earth she needed to know which brochure we received when she said “never mind” and started typing on her computer.

I looked over expecting to see something like www.medicaldoctorsonly.com appear on the screen.  No such luck.  She logged onto Wikipedia.  Yes, my doctor logged onto Wikipedia and started to read aloud how you diagnose for whooping cough.
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I almost ran away.  Except I couldn’t because I would have bumped into her.  She was leaving the room to go and check WITH THE RECEPTIONIST that the facts on Wikipedia were correct.  Presumably the receptionist has her own version of Google Doctor running out the front.

Wikipedia, the receptionist and I agreed that she should do a throat swab (the school had told me this) and after convincing her she could do it through my mouth and not the back of my nose we were almost done.

“Do you still have your tonsils?” she asked after peering down my  throat with a high beam torch.  “Um, take a guess” I countered.  She thought that perhaps I may have tonsillitis but I should wait for the results of the throat swab.

I do not have tonsils.

You don’t have to be a hypochondriac to understand  why I have a regular doctor whom I can trust.  I’ll get the results of the swab from him.

P.S I don’t have a cough