Sunday, September the 12th, 2004

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The Lactose-intolerant Jezebel of Botnia, Her Impending Flu Jab, and the Howling of Wolves at Dusk

“Pins, pins, pins…” muttered Clavdia as she mooched about the hotel lobby thinking about embroidery projects. The Jezebel of Botnia needed something to take her mind off her impending flu jab, for the very thought of injections made her wince, wince and gnash her teeth, wince and gnash her teeth and shudder, wince and gnash her teeth and shudder and shake, wince and gnash her teeth and shudder and shake and sometimes even swoon, and she did not want to swoon here in the hotel lobby, so she concentrated hard on her embroidery projects.

One, a depiction of the crushing of the Fashingu! by Drubbage in 1864. Two, much ivy and elecampine twirled around a tower. Three, a set of tea-towels showing Rex Harrison with each of his wives, including additional fictional wives fermented in Clavdia's brain. Clavdia had named them Hortense, Flopsy and Gaar.

Her flu jab was imminent because Clavdia's doctor was famed throughout Botnia for her unparalleled preventative techniques. She had devised a schedule of inoculations for all her patients, not just Clavdia, and none of them had fallen victim to influenza, diphtheria, plague, tappings, the dengue or calenture for years. Clavdia had more than once asked Doctor Dacoit if there was anything she could do about her lactose-intolerance, and the good doctor was working on it. She had suggested the regular application of an experimental poultice, but that had not been a success, and Clavdia found that her temper was frayed rather more often than usual after sitting with the poultice on her brow for a few hours.

The hotel lobby was hot and had many flies in it.

Clavdia left the hotel to have her flu jab. Afterwards, she spent some time traipsing aimlessly by the canal, then picked up some groceries from the grocery, and made her way home, armed with aubergines and beetroot and custard and a disco dancing CD and eggplant and futile dreams of being plucked from her futile existence in Botnia, and as she trod the familiar path home, wolves howled, wolves howled in the night, just like wolves always do.