I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather since Dagmar’s Aunt and her husband visited us yesterday afternoon, but sometimes a hangover is worth it.
Auntie Blanka is one of those people who’s never been young and carefree. She’s a troubled soul who, according to herself, in mock optimism, is just very lucky to be alive. She’s had every known ailment plus a few bewildering unknowns to boot. It’s like the old joke, she’s now been diagnosed with Hypochondria, (Not that too! we all exclaim in horror).
Actually she has and she came along to tell Dagmar just how her ridiculous Doctor just doesn’t understand her special symptoms and the Psychiatrist she’s been referred to, can’t possibly be a real Doctor as he believes in 19th Century mumbo jumbo and unproved theories AND actually her herbalist is the only one who knows far more AND if only her husband would listen more AND try to be more understanding AND realise that he actually has a very ill wife.
Dagmar was translating the difficult bits for me and I was practising my dead pan face although my mouth was desperate to disobey and let out a big smirk. I managed to escape to the kitchen and knocked back a quick Slivovice, only to be followed by Dagmar who did the same.
We did a double entry back into the living room in time for episode 2, which was something about brain to eye connections, I suggested an infection of the optic fibres, which got a nod of approval. Back to the kitchen quickly with dirty plates and another snifter.
The concluding episode was about retributions and how Grandmother never believed she was ill, forcing her to school when she was in great pain, and her husband, (the expressionless man looking at the floor), didn’t want to listen to her ordeals when he was driving round Europe in his truck and her 2 ungrateful children who live in Australia and Alaska and how Alaska is bad for your back and her grandson didn’t want to speak Czech, how could he ever understand the pain of his Grandmother.
Anyway they left and Dagmar still looked a bit stressed, so we had yet another Slivovice, home made is always the best. The dark shadow of Auntie Blanka soon passed, to be replaced with giggles about her demanding her Doctor does a scan to check her optic fibre cables.