The curious incident of parental bathing in the night-time

Please note this photo is purely for entertainment and no one was hurt in the taking of this photo

Please note this photo is purely for entertainment and no one was hurt in the taking of this photo

Does anyone else’s parents bath at excatly 11pm?

I really never thought I would indeed sit down and write about my parents bathing scheduling – however last night whilst sitting down to a catch up dinner with my friend Ben from University, we both discovered that we weren’t alone and maybe you READER you too are ready to admit.

‘My parents bath everynight at 11pm’

At first I did think that the whole bedtime routine was completely and utterly strange, in fact I thought it only occured in my own household. It has occured for as long as I can remember. In the mean time I have grown up, been through school, university and now I am surviving on my own completely self-sufficient as well as I can safely say that I wash at completely different times of the day – well for now.

In fact, it would appear the 11pm bath schedule may indeed stretch the length and breadth of the country – well we hope?

So all of you out there it is time to own up – we all know it happens…

‘My parents bath everynight at 11pm’

I feel that it is important to get down to the true root of the problem and like any hardened journalist I will be asking the important questions and the questions that everyone is afraid to ask:

Where has this unbroken routine come from?

Has it been passed on through the generations?

Are we next to fall for this terrible illness?

Did our parents parents even have baths?

If you aren’t quite sure and are not sure how to diagnoise your parents as serial 11pm bathers – let me describe the symptoms – a bit like NHS Direct however easier, clearer and probably correct.

1. Dad runs the bath

2.  Mum gets in the bath (sometimes dad talks to mum while she is in the bath – WAHEYYY)

3. Mum leaves the bathroom

4. Dad takes Mums place in the bath (yes eco-friendly in this house)

The bath is then drained.

I know that there are other’s out there… you just need to own up.

‘My parents bath everynight at 11pm’

When I questioned the offenders in depth over a spot of middle class earl grey and mince pies (because its christmas) about their serious problem. I tried every journlistic trick in the book but unfortunately years and years of bathing at 11pm had got to them.

The only coherant answer I got between chewing and sipping was:

‘What other time would you wash?’

Point taken.

But still I cry for help.

‘My parents bath everynight at 11pm’

Trip Advisor: Hospital Trip Part 5

Operation

Chapter 10: The operation

The time had come – I was presented with a paper of sexy paper pants… and a gorgeous green dress which was extremely slinky. In fact it didn’t even have a back by just tied up at the back.

I had to get changed of course into my night-dress and then the ladies on my ward asked me to show them how I looked. So I strutted up and down the ward wheeling my drip and limping. I looked so sexy.

The porter who was called Alan came to wheel my bed down and I left the wonderful women of my ward behind and off I went down to theatre.

Of course being me it wasn’t that simple… I had the whole question and answer test with the anesthetist. Who asked me so my questions about my life. After finding out I had been throwing up he proclaimed that I would need a rapid induction when they put me to sleep.

In otherwords… I was going to be strangled…. yes. Strangled in a hopsital.

I was wheeled into the theatre where I was greeted by a lovely gentleman dressed head to toe in mistletoe green who introduced himself as Kevin my surgeon – yes his name was Kevin that really made me feel confident.

The last thing I remember before I was strangled and put to sleep I said:

‘Kevin, if you ruin my stomach I will literally kill you’

Then I woke up and I was cured….

Well I am sure you realised that I was not the end of my terrible trip to hospital.

I of course needed a drink considering I hadn’t had water pass my lips for about 2 days – but alas the nurses had placed the water to far away that I couldnt reach it. I couldn’t reach the bell either maybe they were doing it for banter…

I had to call for help – Florence Nightingale did not appear. I was actually asked why I needed help and that most patients after they have opeartions sleep….

WELL I AM AWAKE.

I then asked for some help to get to the toilet…. the nurse then asked me why I needed help excatly?

Yes this did occur to which I replied in the politest way possible… ‘Well I have just had an operation, I cannot walk… I haven’t been to the toilet for nearly six hours.’ She was unamused but yet escorted me to the toilet.

Weeing in the toilet was such a joyus experience the sense of relieve was beautiful. Well, until I got stuck on the toilet and had to ask for help. My stomach felt like someone had punched me 30 times in a row just for banter and then decided to punch me again just for good measure.

I am glad to say I survived the night and I slept properly for the first time in 3 or 4 days to be honest it was a little hazy.

However, waking up to the Doctor and his gang of 10 doctors was not so joyous. Whether you need sleep or not the lights go off at the same time every night and they are turned on at the same time of the morning.

I greeted the doctor and his merry friends as best I good as I was poked and prodded again. I was asked if the pain had gone and to be honest I was throbbing but I had got used to the dull pain by now.

I needed painkillers. The doctor agreed. I thought bloody hell I am getting good at this – if all else fails I shall become a doctor… hahah. However, sadly I waited nearly 5 hours to be given some painkillers.

But joy of joys I ate for the first time – it was of course disgusting but when you haven’t eaten for four days it is best to just be greatful.

All in all I survived and I am glad to say that I have mended well I could continue this sorry story but at the end of the day I am sick of writing about it and I am sure you can’t be asked to read anymore!