Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Almost telepathic
Back in the Walsgrave hospital, enjoying some quality time with the Grandad. The nurses and care workers are trying to elicit a response from the old boy in the bed opposite, who isn't looking in the best of shape.
Grandad watches this pantomime over my shoulder, then mouths some words at me. What? I mouth back; lip reading is his speciality, not mine.
Grandad seizes a pen and casts about for something to write on. I pass him yesterday's Times. He jots down a few words, then swears wordlessly: evidently out of ink. I go out and procure a pen from one of the nurses.
Casting furtive glances at the melee surrounding the bed opposite, Grandad completes his note and passes the Times to me. I cast an eye over it, motion for the pen, write a note of my own and pass it back.
Grandad inspects my note, then mimes that he's going to kick me.
My note says: I CAN'T READ YOUR WRITING YOU OLD VILLAIN.
Grandad watches this pantomime over my shoulder, then mouths some words at me. What? I mouth back; lip reading is his speciality, not mine.
Grandad seizes a pen and casts about for something to write on. I pass him yesterday's Times. He jots down a few words, then swears wordlessly: evidently out of ink. I go out and procure a pen from one of the nurses.
Casting furtive glances at the melee surrounding the bed opposite, Grandad completes his note and passes the Times to me. I cast an eye over it, motion for the pen, write a note of my own and pass it back.
Grandad inspects my note, then mimes that he's going to kick me.
My note says: I CAN'T READ YOUR WRITING YOU OLD VILLAIN.
