Part 9: Contraceptives for elephants.

Ever wondered what a contraceptive for an elephant looks like? No? You obviously don't have as much time on your hands as I do. Anyway, now I know and you should too. (if that 'hook' doesn't get readers interested, then I don't know what will!)

This weekend was a glorious one. Being semi-immobile,  I was surviving on flannel washes and, when I really could not face hopping to the bathroom,  wet wipe washes. Disgusting, I know. I wasn't enjoying it. When I go camping, there is not always the luxury of showers (or sometimes there is but for one reason or another, you don't want to risk it!) so you make do with the wonderful wet wipes to wash everywhere. It is a sort of liberating feeling- that healthy balance of  'I'm in the great outdoors so I don't need to bother' mixed with 'everyone else will stink, it's not just going to be me.'
However, since my incident, that liberating feeling has been clearly lacking. I feel SKANKY. That is the only word I can think to describe it.  I've been apologising to everyone who walks through the door, just in case there is a general funk to the room that resembles a tramps underpants. (Not that I really know what that is like, I'm just guessing) Every Glastonbury crusty would be envious of my grime.
But not anymore. The wonders of the internet and an ageing but cheery postman has now liberated me. Oh yes. I am free! Friday morning brought me my cast protector. I could now have a shower after 8 days without. Yippeeeeeee! Boy, was I happy. I could have kissed the postman, although thought I better refrain because he would not deliver my very sexy padded gloves for crutches or my arm chair exercise DVD for fear of me snogging his face off!
Preparing for the shower experience had to be thought about carefully. I needed everything within reach of the plastic seat that was in the bath. It began with the cast protector. Basically, its a thick plastic sack with a rubber ring at the top to nicely cut off the circulation in my leg. (if all this is sounding a bit grim, stop reading now!) Sexy, it is not. I sat on the edge of the bath and looked. Good god, I was wearing nothing but what looked like a condom for an elephant wrapped around my leg.

CT Scan of my poor foot

Once I managed to get in the shower, I made noises like the girls from the herbal essence advert. That sound soon changed to coughing and spluttering as the soap and water poured into my eyes as I could not move because I seemed to have been super-glued to the plastic seat. When the water had finally stopped,  thanks to me yelling for Nick to turn it off, I then had to carefully peel my, newly washed, butt cheeks off the plastic seat. That seemed more difficult than putting my leg in the elephant condom. And there was me thinking that the whole experience was going to be pleasant!
Actually, after being sat in my own filth for 8 days, it did feel like a bit of a life changing experience. After all, who else is lucky enough to single handedly tackle the declining numbers of elephants by pinching their contraception. If there is a rise in the population of elephants in the next year, then you know where to look!

Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner