It's getting better, isn't it? I think so...so much so I can't even bear to look at the older stuff at the bottom! I worry at what shocking errors I will find...maybe it's better that way; signs of progression!
Monday, November 26, 2007
...big love
Martin sat on the bed, looking decidedly grumpy at the television placed on a wall-mounted stand. I say, 'sat on the bed' but he may as may well have been his sleeping position also. You see, Martin is over 40 stone in weight. He has been confined to his bed for, oooh, some 6 years now. He's not worn shoes or socks for five of those years, nor trousers and much to his own disgust, underwear.
However, he was still a flirt with the ladies with a flashing smile and alluring eyes. His warm, caring charm mellowed many a muse who visited him, either to deliver food or to when a nurse came to assist him or when the mental health nurse visited him. Martin had a big crush on her, if you pardon the pun. She was about 40, married, eternity ring, double-barrelled surname, you know the drill. He he liked her visits, she humoured him and he humoured her back, this was his "schtick"; living for the banter. Everything else in his life seemed history, his 'illness' would kill him for sure, but as long as he had his wit, the ability to make the ladies blush when commenting that he could see the colour of their underwear or predict their bra size, he would relish in the moment.
However, the ultimate problem always remained, when Martin was sad, he ate. When he smiled and made his world smile with him, he felt lustful and not just for food. And that is what he missed the most. Lust!