Should We Be Spared

We are not having question time this week.  Question time has been cancelled.  I have had some questions that are worthy of answers, but only a teeny, tiny pawful, which is hardly worth the effort and can be saved for next week.  The entire rest of my blog has been hi jacked by those doomsayers who think the world might end next Wednesday but just want to Google it first to be sure, so as I do not know the answer to the question of whether the world will indeed end next Wednesday I am just going to ignore it.

My friend Aunty Squirrel came round today.  We were discussing this world ending type issue.  She snorted into her tea cup and said: ‘What kind of bloody sad old git thinks that the world might end on Wednesday and immediately goes and punches it into Google?  Haven’t they got better things to do with the few days they might have left?  You should write a blog post about that.  That’ll learn ‘em’.

I thought about it.  I thought: ‘That Aunty Squirrel, sometimes she has remarkably good sense for a woman who once went to the seaside dressed as a lesser spotted seal, got washed out to sea and came home to find all her wall paper being blown off the walls by a mad Albatross of Doom.’  That’s what I thought (I have promised her that I will write about this incident in a later blog.  I have not done so yet because words fail me, and when she tells the story she does all the actions, which makes me wee with laughter, and I don’t know how to reproduce this in print yet.  I’m working on it.  I’m just teasing you for later).  I decided that she was right.

If I seriously thought the world would be ending on Wednesday, the last thing I’d be doing would be parking my behind in front of my PC and firing up Wikipedia.  I’d be off, like a bullet out of a really big gun, you know the ones.  The ones they have on those films where Arnold or Vin or Jean Claude or whoever the latest muscle ripped maniac action hero is, can only lift it by grunting and sweating like a world class shot putter.  That sort of gun.

Here are some things I’d be doing if I really thought the world would be ending on Wednesday:

1. Eating metric tonnages of cake.  Cake for tea, cake for breakfast, cake for midnight feasts.
2. Stroking lots of kittens.  I like kittens.  I find them therapeutic.
3. Having quite a lot of sex, but not enough to knacker my thighs or anything.  I need to keep mobile.
4. Buying shedloads of shoes/clothes/etc
5. Making sure I finish the book I’m reading.  I don’t want to die on a cliff hanger.  That would bum me out.
6. Going to a tropical island.  I’ve never been to a tropical island.  I’ve always wanted to go.
7. Telling all the people I dislike just what I think about them.  This is why I need to be mobile. I need to be able to run fast so that they don’t kill me before my legitimate time is up.
8. Spending all my time with the people that I love.
9. Leaving all the lights on all the time.  Whooh! I know how to party.
10. Stealing something from a shop. I never did shop lift when I was a teenager and I always wondered if it gave you a buzz.  I once ate a cherry I didn’t pay for off a stall at the market, but it didn’t do much for me and I had to be restrained from going back to pay for it.

Anyway, there are just a few things that would be keeping me busy. 

I decided to get into the mindset of someone who would Google the potential demise of mankind.  I too typed in ‘World ending Wednesday?’ just to see what everyone is getting so hot under the collar about.  It appears that they are testing a black hole making machine in Switzerland on Wednesday and although they say that this is completely safe, several people are rather concerned that we are all going to disappear in a poof of anti matter and become a sucking vortex.  I wondered what the broadsheets had to say, The Times Online and the BBC News Website don’t seem unduly worried, as I couldn’t find a mention of it anywhere. This has reassured me slightly.

I am the sort of person who will now worry, albeit in a guilty, furtive sort of way about the fact that I might become a sucking vortex on Wednesday, and I really don’t want to become a sucking vortex on Wednesday, or indeed any day.  There is also that whiney voice in the back of my head that, if said scenario should actually happen, will be the first to say: ‘But that’s not fair.  I had plans.’ Unlike the rest of the known world then.  I wish I hadn’t looked, but I did, I have, and there you have it.  Now I must add it to the list of other things I had planned to worry about:

1. Tallulah’s scabby ears.
2. My impending smear test (I will wait to ring up about this until after Wednesday, just in case)
3. My sinuses being impacted again.
4. The fact that Tallulah seems to be naturally gravitating to reading right to left instead of left to right (she may be partially Japanese in a retro, genetic throwback type way)
5. The fact that we are only one meeting into Brownies and already it is a gigantic and monumental pain in the arse.
6. The fact that I am going to have to lie to Brown Owl, because Tilly did her cooking badge stuff, but because she did it for us and not for random strangers it apparently doesn’t count. I have been through two weeks of culinary hell to get this bloody badge and have now invented a total stranger for which Tilly has done all these things so that we don’t have to do it again. 
7. The fact that I have put on the half stone I lost over the summer in the last two weeks and I can’t be arsed to take it off again.
8. The fact that I have a huge new hole in the knee of my second favourite jeans.
9. Whether it’s now worth putting in an Ocado order for next week.
10. Whether Oscar is ever going to stop trying to be Wallace and asking for cream crackers, which are wildly disappointing even at the best of times.

You see, I already have so much to worry about.  How am I supposed to fit in being sucked into oblivion by a stupid Swiss scientist as well? 

Anyway, Aunty Squirrel is coming round to my house tomorrow.  She is going to administer Hopi Ear Candles to me, and swears blind they are going to take my sinusitis away forever.  I don’t know about this.  My ex husband once looked into them. He was/is a fiend for anything new, weird and potentially dangerous, like setting fire to your ears.  He pronounced that they would probably be as effective as ropey arse candles and refused to have anything to do with them.  I however, am desperate.  I have slept with a hot water bottle sellotaped to my face for the past two days and have been chewing pain killers all day today.  I trust Aunty Squirrel not to set fire to my hair/ears/head.

This is one thing to be hopeful about and one less thing to worry about.  I have told her that if it works I will be declaring the 6th September, Saint Squirrel’s day, and should we be spared from the oncoming anti matter I will be spending the next year making her a throne, which I will carry her about the streets on, whilst pelting her with buns.  She is naturally very excited, should we indeed be spared.