Bitten in the butt0cks

Yesterday I was woken at 4.30a.m. by my new and very unwelcome constant companion – Sciatica – who had her razor-sharp teeth firmly implanted in my right buttock, hanging on like a persistent terrier.

I slid off my top end of the Sleep Sounder range 2000 Mirapocket Spring Sytems mattress, with referred pain radiating down both legs and fall to my knees.  My top end of the range mattress is now in league with Sciatica as it feels about as unwelcoming as a bed of nails, so I shuffle, quietly, around the house waiting for daylight to come so I can shuffle off for some acupuncture treatment.


An hour later, I drove home fantasising about a flat white and a heat pad to find that our bovine neighbours have staged a mass breakout from their field, assisted by the strong wind and a flimsy fence.  They are now seeking solace in our garden, or rather they just can’t contain themselves as the lush grass, that used to be our lawn a matter of weeks ago, smells so sweet and they are intent on ruminating on it for the rest of the afternoon.

But, despite the appealing thought of not having to cut the grass myself and being provided with free manure for the roses,  I throw on a pair of wellies and organise a one-woman Bonanza-style roundup.  Safe in the knowledge that the electric fence generator has been rendered useless either by the wind or a herd of marauding heifers.  I manage to chase them away from the road and eventually into their well-chewed paddock, yeehaw! And come back into the house to see them looking wistfully over the hedge at our grass.  So near … yet so far.


Finally, I make my coffee, reunite myself with the heat pad and try to settle down to edit a synopsis, but Sciatica reminds me that

a)  I can’t comfortably sit down and

b) I might have got a bit carried away rounding up cattle and

c) She is intending on being attached to my buttock for quite some time