Personal HygieneThere comes a point at which your hygiene becomes less your problem and more everyone else's:
My old school nurse never seemed to wash - instead she wrapped herself in crepe bandages from the first aid kits. The smell was beyond pungent. If you got ill at school, it was better to suffer than try and explain symptoms whilst only breathing out.
When she was eventually 'let go',they had to strip the wallpaper in her office to get rid of the lingering odour.
How scuzzy have you got? Or, failing that, how bad have people you know got?
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chthonic, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:40)
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Little old ladies can be so... rancidMyself and Mrs. God have a little routine. She works late on a Thursday, so after she finally finishes, I collect her in the Godmobile, and we go to the Chinese round the corner. Being creatures of habit, they pretty much know what we want, so that saves time ordering.
One particular day, in we go at our usual time. We order, and take a seat on the bench. In shuffles a little old lady, and suddenly things take a turn for the worse in the olfactory department. She gives her order, and shuffles over to the gas fire in the corner.
Myself and Mrs God exchange worried glances. Hers doesn't fit me, so we swap back. Over the next few minutes, we become increasingly aware of the rising stench of stale wee coming from the little old lady. Well, when I say 'increasingly aware', I mean something more like 'trying not to hurl'.
The doorbell pings, and someone else comes in, and hits this wall of stench. Ew. He looks around frantically. We point at the little old lady. He leaves again. Then, the lady who runs the shop walks back into the front, to take the order. And hits the stench. She murmurs something in Chinese (I presume) and tries to smile. It doesn't work. She disappears again.
At this point, we're considering running for our lives. We've already paid, but I can't see myself ever wanting to eat again at this point. I'm feeling quite sick, which is unusual for me when I'm not drunk.
After what seems like three years of having our nasal passages battered by this hideous stench, our food arrives. Mrs. God grabs the food while I hold the door, and we run for it!
In the car, I notice an unusual silence from Mrs. God. Turns out she's huffing the bag of food, trying to clear her nose out. Half an hour after getting home, we're finally hungry enough to risk it.
And the food was great! As always. But we did spare a thought for anyone else who'd gone in there that night.
Never saw here in there again, thank goodness. If she was in there, I'd have chips instead, I think.
(, Sat 24 Mar 2007, 10:13, Reply)
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