The Emancipation of Dolores McCrumble

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Dolores and Ravel do TK Maxx





Poor Ravel, I know I probably shouldn't be lavishing sympathy on the lad in view of the recent shananigans with Miron but he really does need some help. Since Ravel arrived in Joseph's department I've been desperate to take him under my wing and give him a makeover (of sorts). He will insist upon wearing stone-washed jeans circa 1987 and godawful shell suit jackets. He's not a bad looking bloke in an Eastern-European-pasty-kind-of-way and I really think with a bit of tweeking he'd be fighting off the lasses. If Ravel got a girlfriend I think he would become more stable and less susceptible to the machinations of his rogue sibling.

Our morning went as follows:

9.00 Arrive at Ravel's flat. Find Ravel in kitchen eating remnants of boiled cabbage and tinned frankfurters off a paper plate. Advise Ravel that this is not an ideal breakfast meal.
9.20 Ravel is finally ready to leave. Ravel appears to have doused himself in some kind of aerosol aftershave. Have to drive with windows down despite the inclement Scottish weather.
9.45 Arrive at TK Maxx (as I am paying for Ravel's new wardrobe it has to be done on the cheap).
10.00 Ravel disappears.
10.05 Ravel returns with a fondue set, a wrought iron edged mirror and a faux leopard skin oven-glove set.
10.06 Remind Ravel that we're here on a clothing mission, not a household mission.
10.15 Locate some non-stonewashed jeans, a 3-pack polo shirts and 2 pairs of chinos.
10.16 Ravel insists that I enter changing room with him. Am a little concerned about this and even more concerned when I discover that Ravel is wearing paisley Y -fronts.
10.30 We leave TK Maxx with Ravel decked out in a pale blue polo shirt, a pair of chinos and a tasteful pair of brown leather brogues. Curiously, he looks kind of English foppish now but not unattractive.

The next day.

Joseph informs me that Ravel rolls into work 3 hours late. A bit of a gamble on Ravel's behalf considering the recent goings-on. Apparently, the night before, delighted with his new image, Ravel hits the town, discovers the Scottish drinking culture and ends up spending the night with Kara O'Mara (I kid you not, that's her name) the infamous town bike. I'm intruiged as to how the pair of them communicated, she's from the arse end of Wexford and his grasp of English is...er... limited. The mind boggles.

Anyway, I best toddle off. It's Thursday night and that's 'Telephone The Twins' night.


4 Comments:

  • At 7:09 AM, Blogger Charlie said…

    Dear Dolores (if I may call you dear Dolores):

    I recently told the Dr that I never realized parasitology is so fraught with human dangers.

    But you, Delores (if I may call you Delores), appear to take it all in stride. To strangle a cliche, What is one man's danger is another woman's *tut*

    I applaud you for taking Ravel under your wing, but you may have created your own Frankenstein; or Ravelstein, to be precise.

    I'm intruiged as to how the pair of them communicated . . .

    I may be wrong, Delores (if I may call you Delores), but in these types of matters I do not believe that communication is necessary, or for that matter, even desireable.

     
  • At 7:14 AM, Blogger Charlie said…

    Not to be a pest, but I find it somewhat odd that the Dr does not have a sidebar link to your blog. Could it be, perhaps, be an oversight?

     
  • At 7:17 AM, Blogger Charlie said…

    Now I AM a pest. Only one "be" in the last line of the last comment. I hate it when I display my stupidity in public, but I suppose I should be used to it . . .

     
  • At 9:10 AM, Blogger Dolores McCrumble said…

    Dear Admiral Pooper,

    You may indeed call me Dolores, Joseph and the 'Mrs Dr McCrumble' thing irritates me intensely. If nothing else Admiral Pooper, I am my own woman.

    Yes, Ravel...he really is a worry that lad. On Friday I popped into Joseph's department and managed to grab Ravel for a quick chat re. his dalliance with Kara O'Hara. Realising I was getting nowhere I thrust a handful of STI clinic leaflets I'd gathered in the library into his hand. Hope he can make sense of them.

    Does he not have a sidelink to my blog? The cheeky beggar - I'll have a word with him about that! He did create a blog post to introduce me though.

    Anyway, best scoot. Have to ring the twins again, one of them has got conjunctivitis - it's rife in boarding schools apparently - the filthy little cretins!

    Cheerio.

     

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