My husband of lifetimes is known to many as the Long Suffering One, or LSO. No-one has ever suggested that the name doesn’t suit him. Here are a few reasons why.
I was so disgusted after a stay in hospital that I wrote to the local paper. A reporter phoned me. I explained that the doctors and nurses were wonderful. I then went on to relate the story of the meals served up, describing the vegetable risotto as some cheap rice boiled in the water from the cleaner’s mop bucket, with a razor-thin slice of mushroom and a single pea added. The baked potato, I suggested, was something picked up off the floor of the operating theatre where someone had been castrated.
The following day the LSO and I were walking towards a newsagent’s when he spotted the A-frame board outside. On it were the words – Local Woman’s Hospital Nightmare.
‘I hope that’s not you,’ he said.
When the LSO had his heart attacks I wrote about them in one of my regular columns, sold a proposal for a book by using them – the editor said she didn’t usually laugh on a Friday afternoon – and then sold a story to one of the ‘psychic’ type of magazines because we’d both had the same dream about his father coming to visit him in the cardiac care ward. When a copy of the magazine arrived in the post I tried to hide it from him. On the front cover it said – Colin’s horror as dead dad comes to get him.
When I was on Deal or No Deal, not long after those heart attacks, the LSO was sitting in the audience holding hands with Anita Loughrey. It was a tense show – possibly for everyone except me. I was enjoying every second. When there was a break in filming, Noel Edmonds suggested we get some fresh air. When we were outside I told him about Colin’s brush with death – cardiac arrest and multiple heart attacks. ‘You’re enough to give him another one,’ he said as he rushed back into the studio to check on him.
Now, do you think the name suits?