“Look In The Bathroom.” copyright R.E. Hinchco 1999 Disclaimer: ‘Articles posted in this column ‘Hinchco’s Say’ are expressions of the views and opinions of the writer and are not necessarily shared by the Editor, nor by Kiwinews.’ Going back a bit now, I was taking a shower………….. Why the hell do we say ‘Taking a shower’? We don’t swallow the bloody thing with a glass of water… We don’t grab it and bugger off with it……. Why can’t we say ‘having a shower’……? I will. Bugger it. One day, I was having a shower. It’s one of those ‘over the bath’ type ones. We don’t get too flash down here in Paradise. It’s Helengrad too you know….but we don’t get too flash….anyway, Showers over baths aren’t the safest things for old guys. You’ll find that out one day, if you haven’t by now. They are narrow….and rounded….and you are liable to arse up if you’re not careful, and this particular day, a combination of the rounded base, soap in these old eyes and failing balance sees yours truly go arse over turkey. Clutching desperately for support, down come the shower curtains. All the crap….the half full jars and bottles on the window sill and in the shower caddy…..another bloody stupid name….e after. It’s a scene of absolute blimin chaos! The falling curtain rail takes everything off the hand basin Ggggeeeeezzzzzuuuuuzzzz! It’s chemicals for Africa. Crash goes the shelf above the clothes drier….by now, I’m flat on my duff and still trying to find my feet in the bath come shower. Slowly I raise myself…cagily, fingers crushing the sides of the bath….eyes welded closed and burning like a bastard, and then I start running on the spot. It’s slow at first. A gentle jog. No traction though, and then the pace begins to quicken…it’s a sprint, then down I go again. SMACK….Face first this time. Old tattooed arse in the air, if you can imagine such a thing. Such a sight….. My face is burning. It feels as though it has been half torn off. I can taste blood. My heart starts pounding….I reach up to try and feel for damage…for injury, I’m getting good at this…feeling…. I pull something painfully from my nostril…..trained fingers tell me it is a toothbrush, up there bristle end first….God….I hope it isn’t mine. I lay still for a while, my eyes still burning and locked tight. I figure I’ll roll out of the bath….like in the service. ‘First sign of trouble…hit the deck and roll’. Bugger! I’m already on the deck… I grit my teeth…sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit! That’s where the blood is coming from. One of my front teeth is missing. This is going to look great on an ACC claim form. In spite of the pain….I find myself laughing. ‘Stop it kid….stop it’, I try to convince myself… you’ll go bloody nuts. You’ll cry next…. The last of the strength, all of the resolve, the hatred and anxiety….it all went into that roll. SMACK. It was like a bus landing in a mudflat. I lay there for a while, my eyes still killing me…panting, sucking up all of the talcum off the floor. I could make it now….I knew that. ‘Travel at night, rest during the day’…the way they taught me those many years ago. There was water nearby….a man could live for days as long as he had water, they said………………. It was a mixture of sweat, and the fact that I hadn’t had time to dry myself of course, and mixed with the blend of chemicals I had just been immersed in and was now liberally coated with, the growing warmth on my gut and around nether regions, family jewels included….obviously…………. I just knew things would get worse…much worse, before they even began to get better. I had to make it to the hand-basin. That would be my salvation. Wash my face. Stop the fires in my eyes. I would be able to see again….that’s if my eyes were still there. This was the moment. Courage. Must stand. Must find hand-basin. I felt the edge of the vanity…..Ggggggeeezzzzuuzzz! ‘Vanity!’…at a time like this? I’m bare assed, in a crouch, covered in God only knew what collection or blend of chemicals, there’s parts of me tingling…others now burning like Hell.… ‘Vanity!’ *&%##. I planted my feet and clutched the basin edge and on my own ‘three’ drove with those once powerful legs…I’m two thirds of the way to straight then there is a crash, excruciating pain and the world rains down on me…. …….never….ever….leave cupboard doors open. You might stand up one day and bump your head….*&%##....understatement. I was headed for the deck once more. Head-butted the basin cabinet and took out the door handle with my forehead. It chipped a groove out like the Panama canal, but I made it. That’s how I’m telling you about it today. I knew I’d made it when I heard the backdoor and the voice call out… “You okay?” “Yep” I replied…..a little lispy on account of the missing tooth. “What was that?” “Oh…I dropped the cap off the toothpaste.” I explain…. “Okay…but don’t make a mess in there Okay? I just cleaned it up and the visitors will be here any minute.” Among that potent potion there were four different hair conditioners, one for dry, one for oily, one for treated and one for sensitive hair. Gggggggggggeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezuzzzzzzzzzzz wept! Mine was at least sensitive…………… There were five shampoos, for all of the above and a couple extra. There were cleaners and bleaches, starches, and things that make ironing a breeze. There were hair colorants, colour fixers, colour stabilisers, teeth whiteners, underarm defoliants, skin cleansers and moisturisers……………and a fungus killer. There were razors and razor blades, shaving cream, soap, and non-soap substitutes. There were body gels, deodorants, toothpaste, aftershave and talcums….two of them actually. There was baby oil…..Gggggeeezzzzzuzzz! I’m 61…what in the hell do I need baby oil for….and did you know, it takes 16 babies on average….to make one litre of baby oil…… I had a broken rib, a dislocated thumb….two buggered knees, 14 stitches in my head, bruises and swellings all over….but when I got to work, the boss said…. “Shite! What in hell have you done to your hair.”
Posted on: Sat, 31 Aug 2013 22:23:37 +0000
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