Asbestos (and Blossom's homework)

Depression rules. Yesterday was the ‘site meeting’ with the asbestos removal contractors. It went pretty much as we suspected, with plenty of tutting and whistling through teeth and shaking of heads as they inspected our cellar (the one our ghost child was purportedly locked in when naughty). As we stood on the road, all gazing at the cellar and its vast octopus-like boiler (liberally draped in asbestos), two children from up the road wandered past.
‘What’s that?’ enquired child one.
‘It’s our cellar,’ I said gloomily.
‘I’ve always asked my dad what’s down there,’ said child two.
‘It’s where we put James when he’s being really naughty,’ I replied. Why on earth did I say that? What possessed me? Possession? Aaaghh, am I being haunted?
Child one looked at child two in a sort of ‘ooh, scary lady, the kind my mother warned me about’ way and they marched off with fake smiles and stiff waves.

So, when we had all looked at the cellar as knowledgably as we could (with me dropping in the fact that my father had been a heating engineer and more or less ate asbestos for breakfast, in the slim faint hope they wouldn’t fleece us too much if it looked as if we might know what we were talking about) we went upstairs to have coffee.
‘So, Bob. I’m thinking five days.’
‘Yup, Dave.’
‘Three blokes, Bob.’
‘Three blokes, Dave.’
‘Mobile unit and shower, Bob?’
‘Absolutely Dave.’
‘Nasty job, Bob.’
They both nodded and sighed.
Adrian and I sat with pound signs flashing in front of our eyes.
‘Have to close the road, of course.’
‘Whaaat???’
There are basically three routes into town and we have just suffered from one of them being closed for months while the river bank was shored up. Muttering has been high. Do these people want to turn us into pariahs when we haven’t even been here two months?
‘Only for three days.’
The horror was clearly etched on our faces as they Bobbed and Daved a bit and decided that, with a smaller unit, they could manage with half the road blocked off and traffic lights in place.
So, they left and we silently banged our heads on the kitchen table for five minutes. This was going to cost serious money and not even for something we’d see – or even use.

It really did feel like the twilight zone and so I started thinking about Blossom’s homework. What would be the sounds and smells that would reach my inner self were I lying in a coma (which, when we receive the quote, I suspect I will be). It’s quite hard really, as the really powerful ones sort of sneak up on you unawares and hit you with a blow to the solar plexus when you least expect it. So this isn’t the definitive list, but a starting place. Oh, and I had to add touch as well – hope that’s OK Blossom.

1. Neroli oil. When I was in my teens I got really into aromatherapy and made tons of my own cosmetics and oil blends. I found neroli the most uplifting (but could only afford to buy the blended oil as it’s horrendously expensive) and the merest sniff still cheers the soul.
2. Adrian’s forearms. I have a bit of a thing about men’s arms and Adrian’s are gorgeous. Strong and muscular but with the softest skin. So stroke my hand along one (make sure he’s washed first).
3. James gently stroking my face. Something about my child’s touch that just melts me every time.
4. Three Kings from Persian Lands Afar….. Little-known carol that we used to sing at school and that sends a chill down my spine every time I hear it. Find Jane Rayson and get her to sing it if you possibly can.
5. A dog’s soft ears. Plonk Asbo on the bed and he’ll snuggle up. Even the maddest baddest dog seems to know when you’re feeling poorly or miserable and gives that wonderful dog therapy. He has the roughest coat but still has ears like silk.
6. Cariad. Possibly the loveliest word in the world. Rough translation ‘my love’ in Welsh. But somehow means more than that… ‘Mitten’ is another favourite word. Also ‘nimlet’. No idea why.
7. Rachmaninov – think it’s piano concerto number 2…. Makes me cry every time I hear it. Without fail. I remember the album cover from when I was a child – water racing over rocks – and maybe there is some deep childhood association. I don’t know – but it moves me in a very strange and unsettling way.
8. Sweet peas. One of my favourite flowers and the scent is sublime. We had sweet peas tumbling over our wedding cake and I can’t wait to start growing them again.
9. This could be difficult but that thing that happens when you’re in a speed boat or standing at the front of a ferry. Sea spray on your face, ozone in your nose, that exhilarating sense of having the breath literally whisked away from you.
10. Woodsmoke… A campfire, an open fire, a bonfire…I don’t really mind. Chestnuts optional.
11. Alan Partridge tapes. The first time we heard him was in the car and we really did think it was local radio. I’m not a huge comedy fan but some of the radio shows made me literally cry with laughter.
12. If all else fails, open a bottle of bubbly close to my ear. The soft ‘pop’ of the cork, followed by the wild fizzing (both the sound and the feel of tiny bubbles)…the composty fragrant scent. But don’t be cruel – dab a bit on my lips. If that doesn’t bring me round, I’m a lost cause.

PS - picture is of bonkers window lock....