Guess which persona turned up on my doorstep this morning to "babysit" me. "Darling, don't get up, I've got the key!" she chirruped as she breezed in and caught sight of me in my jim jams struggling into the kitchen for a wash (I can't make the stairs without tears). Usually Bea would be horrified to find me in flannelette and would immediately order me some silk nighties on the internet. New Age Bea was near to tears as she clutched me to her bosom (brushed cotton covered).
The morning was spent chummily watching Lord Ray of Winston in Henry VIII and coming over all unnecessary. But she refused to let me have access to the custard creams. And made me a Green Tea (she had bought a goodie bag) instead of PG. During my second shuffle to the downstairs loo (really, it'd be funny if I wasn't in such agony) she wouldn't pause the programme for me and said that I could "move quicker if you really wanted to". Having dangled the carrot of Mr Winstone stripping off under my nose she then suggested that I should make her a cup of tea "for a change".
I sent her up to Ayres for lunch. I asked for a chicken tikka doorstep or, failing that, a BLT roll or a sausage roll even. While she was out I hazarded an unguarded trip to the loo, fell over Junior Dog and nearly broke my neck. She returned, pooh-poohed my tale of woe and handed over the box of salad she had bought me. Apparently they were all out of my luncheon choices. If I could have got up there I would have personally questioned Mr Ayre as to the whereabouts of his tikka, bacon and sausage rolls.
During my salad box we finished off Mr Winstone and then she tried to encourage me to wear various different crystals about my person. Now, I'm one of the first to embrace anything like this......to quote ABBA, I believe in angels. What I was not at all happy with was her "opening my chakras" with Mac due through the door at any moment. "Darling, you need to open up your channels to enable yourself to heal" she said in soothing tones whilst whizzing me up a cocktail of "health giving ingredients" in the blender. Middle Dog refused to touch it and he eats snails fresh from plant pots.
Mac was delighted to find Auntie Bea on the premises but was not at all impressed with the oatcakes she tried to give him for tea. "Where are the dammy jodgers?" he asked me in an undertone. "Auntie Bea has hidden them honey, we'll get them out tomorrow when Janey's here". He tried, God love him. Even made yummy noises. But he got an oat stuck and choked so much I had visions of going back to A&E for the second time in four days.
We were allowed to watch QVC though, as apparently "some of the items are incredible bargains". She bought her Pilates machine from there and "can't live without it". Mac fell in love with one of Charlie's Bears and wanted to buy David Bear because "it's like my daddy's name" but wasn't allowed to buy it because "it's mass produced darling boy". Mac, not understanding consumerism and distraught at a) there being no jammy dodgers, b) the lingering threat of oakcakes and c) Auntie Bea in New Age mode saying "no", had a mini paddy and sat down huffily on my bad leg.
Cue much bad language from me just as his father returned from work with a cheery greeting and a boyish smile. New Age Bea packed up her goodie bag and promised to return on Friday with a kiss and a plea to "stop swearing darling, it's bad for your karma."
I keep telling myself off for being such a meanie but when your leg is throbbing like an unexploded bomb, it's very hard. And she rang me half an hour ago to see if I was enjoying the Green Tea. She means well bless her.