Rumours Not Greatly Exaggerated

I shall skim lightly over the precise nature of the misery that norovirus has brought to the Hairy household this week, except to say that I have had an opportunity to form a brand-new pet theory regarding roller-coaster rides and ease-of-vomiting.

There are people who adore fairground rides. Simply can’t get enough of ’em. They are happy to be thrown around the skies by whatever whirling mechanical means Cro-Magnon-Fairground Man is touting in their town this week.  And then you have the confirmed coat-holders; those indefatigable, sensible lovers of good old terra firma.

There are, I believe, people who can neatly eject the contents of their stomach – while standing! – and proceed calmly with their existence. Who can, whilst out drinking (and I shudder to even recount this) have a tactical chunder to make more room – and return to the bar.

And then you have the people who cannot throw up without feeling as if A) their life is coming to an end, and the sooner the better, too, and B) that they would mightily prefer being buffeted at the epicentre of a particularly heated rugby scrum to their current wretched abdominal spasms.

I think that the person who likes fairground rides and the person who can throw up without wanting to actually die, may actually may be one and the same person.  I, regrettably, am the other person. The coat-holder emetophobic person. The ‘take-everything-I-own-and-break-my-limbs-if-you-have-to-but-fer-the-love-o-god-stop-this-happening-I-would-rather-give-birth-sans-pain-relief-(again)-than-this’ person.

Due to the incapacity of his parents, Harry (the Hairy Patient Zero, now well into the recovery phase), has managed to get away with rather more than he normally would do

and has mastered two… well, three new Makaton signs during all of this: ‘Puking’ and ‘Poorly’. Except that he can’t quite get the hang of ‘Poorly’ and is merrily signing… something else instead.

After whimpering pathetically to Harry that Mummy was very poorly, I was treated to the singular experience of having my toddler (who embodies the conventional 2-year-old vintage blend of slobbery affection and brutal sociopath) pat me on the arm with great tenderness and sign:

‘Mummy dead’.


14 Responses

  1. Dead? Oh dear, I shouldn’t laugh. Poor Wifey! Not dead at all! Look, he’s offering you a biscuit. That’s nice, isn’t it?

    I coat-hold too. Feet on terracotta (as Delboy calls it) is really the only way to have fun, I agree.

    Get well soon, poor girl. Worst is over, surely?

  2. Dead? Well, that’s probably close enough, isn’t it?

    I am your exception that proves the rule – the rollercoaster loving person who hates vomiting so much that I went 15 years without doing it even as everyone around me was tossing their cookies.

    Hope you’re all feeling better soon!

  3. That boy of yours is SO. CUTE. Even if he was hairy patient zero.

  4. I’m another exception. I no longer actually RIDE much of anything due to my lousy neck and back, but I’m one who used to clamber merrily aboard any and every ride and would rather have a cut needing stitches than toss my cookies. I had a lovely twelve-year stint of vomit-free living, then broke it with a bout of ‘flu, and my victorious streak would have continued had it not been for some idiot deciding that absinthe ought to be legal here again.


    Here’s hoping you feel better ASAP and HAHAHA to Harry’s assessment of your condition!

  5. I am no fan of vomiting oh no but sometimes my migraines just wont shift until I have vomited copiously and I’ll take vomit over migraine anytime. Hope it goes away soon.

  6. You are not allowed to die. There is Beth Orton to see. “You will live, Papa you’re going to live!” (You may or may not get that one.)

    Get well soon, ideally before Friday. In the meantime, I know of where I can get some crumbed Digestives for a cheesecake crust…

  7. Oh God how I hate vomiting. Hate hate hate. In the last couple of years I have done more vomiting than I ever did in the first 33 years of my life put together. Has it cured me of the Emetophobia? Has it buggery. I am now merely really, REALLY sure that I hate vomiting. So, at the moment, you are in the Pole Position of People My Heart Goes Out To.

    But Harry in the biscuits is just so damn cute I think I exploded.

    Also, I laughed my head off. And then I read your post to H, and he laughed his head off too. I have a feeling we’ll be dragging that story out when Harry is 18 and dating. Heh heh.

  8. Oh, Harry. That’s truly, deeply hilarious.

    I’m afraid I break the rule: I love love love fairground rides, will go on any rollercoaster ever built, yet hate to puke.

    So, of course, I was slapped with nine months of full-tilt preggie nausea. Every morning felt like my last.

  9. Loathe fairground rides but look forward to vomiting as light relief during migraines, and something to take pride in doing neatly at other times.


    Is it my imagination, or has your son suddenly gone brunet?

    • Noooooooo! Not your imagination! He’s rapidly turning John’s shade of unexceptional Mouse. My little blonde bombshell has vanished over winter.

      *unscrews lemon juice*

  10. Well, that’s my theory royally buggered, then!

  11. Oh no!
    I used to hate throwing up. Then I threw up every day for fourteen weeks – once with kid #1, once with kid#2. I got used to it, I guess. Doesn’t bother me anymore.

  12. Here’s to your resurrection!

    Do they make Sun-In for tots?

  13. Here’s another putting her hand up for “Please don’t let me vomit. Please, please, please.” Hate it. Prefer migraine as there are meds for some pain relief. I have not really found anything that stops the inevitable when your immune system swings into gear and issues the order. “All aiien invaders! Out now!”

    Sorry to hear you’ve been a bit…um…dead. Hope your resurrection is incident free on its way to fully restored to good health.

    Swimming pool chlorine and summer sunshine. Worked for my boy, unfortunately texture was something more akin to that dried stuff you feed to cows.

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