Necessity is the mother of invention
Ladies and gentlemen who are physically enfeebled in some way often find themselves devising methods of undertaking mundane tasks which might be considered "ingenious" by persons who are capable of carrying out said tasks in the "normal" manner.
Lady Bracknell, for example, does not limit the use to which she puts her handsome walking sticks to that of supporting her in her perambulations. When reversed, the crook of such a stick can be fed through the handles of her ladyship's reticule, thus obviating the requirement to bend down in order to grasp them.
Bending being a particularly difficult and painful action for her ladyship, she remains barefoot when in Bracknell Towers (despite the cries of horror at such recklessness from the medical professionals who treat her for her diabetes) the better to utilise her toes in such tasks as switching electric sockets on and off, and placing small items of rubbish in waste paper baskets.
Unequal to the task of trimming the toe nails on her left foot by standard methods, Lady Bracknell sits on her left leg to do so. (This results in her having to trim her nails from underneath: a procedure which, it must be admitted, is fraught with some degree of risk.)
However, Lady Bracknell's own minor successes in adapting everyday tasks to suit her own physical limitations pale in comparison with the following.
Lady Bracknell's friend Mrs C has not been upstairs in her own house for many years. Her children, however, continue to occupy the upper rooms. Mrs C considers that one of her duties as a mother is to ensure that said children keep their rooms clean and tidy. And she cannot trust their word on this matter.
(Before continuing, readers - particularly those who have no problems with ascending and descending the stairs in their own homes - may wish to pause for a moment and cudgel their brains to come up with a solution to the quandary in which Mrs C finds herself.)
Displaying an admirable degree of cunning (or, if you will, "lateral thinking"), Mrs C demands that her children take photographs of their bedrooms on a weekly basis and bring them to her as proof of their labours. When first told of this scheme, Lady Bracknell asked Mrs C how she could be sure that she was not being shown the same photographs every week.
"Ah", said Mrs C, "It's my digital camera. And I delete the photographs as soon as I have seen them".
Lady Bracknell, for example, does not limit the use to which she puts her handsome walking sticks to that of supporting her in her perambulations. When reversed, the crook of such a stick can be fed through the handles of her ladyship's reticule, thus obviating the requirement to bend down in order to grasp them.
Bending being a particularly difficult and painful action for her ladyship, she remains barefoot when in Bracknell Towers (despite the cries of horror at such recklessness from the medical professionals who treat her for her diabetes) the better to utilise her toes in such tasks as switching electric sockets on and off, and placing small items of rubbish in waste paper baskets.
Unequal to the task of trimming the toe nails on her left foot by standard methods, Lady Bracknell sits on her left leg to do so. (This results in her having to trim her nails from underneath: a procedure which, it must be admitted, is fraught with some degree of risk.)
However, Lady Bracknell's own minor successes in adapting everyday tasks to suit her own physical limitations pale in comparison with the following.
Lady Bracknell's friend Mrs C has not been upstairs in her own house for many years. Her children, however, continue to occupy the upper rooms. Mrs C considers that one of her duties as a mother is to ensure that said children keep their rooms clean and tidy. And she cannot trust their word on this matter.
(Before continuing, readers - particularly those who have no problems with ascending and descending the stairs in their own homes - may wish to pause for a moment and cudgel their brains to come up with a solution to the quandary in which Mrs C finds herself.)
Displaying an admirable degree of cunning (or, if you will, "lateral thinking"), Mrs C demands that her children take photographs of their bedrooms on a weekly basis and bring them to her as proof of their labours. When first told of this scheme, Lady Bracknell asked Mrs C how she could be sure that she was not being shown the same photographs every week.
"Ah", said Mrs C, "It's my digital camera. And I delete the photographs as soon as I have seen them".
posted by
Lady Bracknell | Sunday, April 02, 2006
5 Comments:
That made this reader laugh out loud. Mind you, better than arranging Closed Circuit Television cameras or something like this.
(Of course, if the kids are smart enough, they might learn to download and upload photographs between computer and camera, but Mrs C sounds like the sort of reasonable woman who would not inspire such deviousness within her offspring.)
Rather than impersonating a contortionist and risking your health by hacking away at your nails, I humbly implore you employ the services of a πεντικιουρίστας.
Forgive my impertinance in communicating to you in this manner dear Lady. But it is the worry that does it.
best wishes
pete
Lady Bracknell apologises for having worried Mr Mentalas unduly.
The risk is limited to cutting the toe nail off rather too close to the toe. This exposes more of the nail bed than would be ideal for a day or two until the nail grows back. It is a relatively minor discomfort.
And Lady Bracknell already attends so many medical appointments that the prospect of going somewhere to have her toe nails cut on a regular basis appeals to her not one whit.
Both Mrs C and Lady Bracknell sound like women after my own heart!
OMG, that's some ingenious parenting!
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