Gums, expectant mums
"So why you Vegetarian?" she asks.
Jodie is my mother's carer and asked me recently this question- though Pescetarian would be more accurate. And so I began to explain, how one afternoon nine years ago a young woman thrust into my hand a leaflet whilst strolling down a high street somewhere in North London. Only to put said leaflet into pocket, and discover it weeks later whilst rifling for a bunch of keys.
'Meat.org' it had read in big, bold, red lettering. And with nothing pressing to do that particular afternoon- and quite bored out of my mind if I remember- I looked them up.
Jodie is listing intently.
"And what I saw" I ventured, "was just, horrific. Barbaric, inhumane." "Murder" I say.
An mpeg had played of a chicken being decapitated with a long bloody blade in an anonymous grey building. The camera capturing the blinking eyes of a life ebbing away; a thin shred of skin and tendon remaining linking head to neck.
Jodie is smiling.
"Your smiling" I say.
"Thing's like that don't bother me." she says.
"Right" is my only response.
Jodie is twenty one, from Enfield and a one time British Karate champion.
"I saw a pig being gutted the other night on TV" she says, in a breezy singsongy voice "they slit it from here to here". She is pressing a finger to her chest and sliding it down to her navel, as she wheels my mum into the bathroom "and all it's guts spilt out." "I was creasing up."
I am disturbed.
After seeing to my mum and bringing her back into the living room, my mother still in one piece, she tells me that she is dying for a fag.
"Your pregnant" I tell here, reminding her of a her condition.
"You don't believe everything the doctor tells you do you? My mum smoked all the time when she was pregnant, It will still land out on it's arse."
Jodie is chewing something. Perhaps 'Chewits'. Once during her 7.45 am call she offered me one. I declined. "Too early in the morning for me, thanks" I replied. "You like Chewits?" I said.
"Yeah love em." "But Wine Gums are better" she said.
Jodie is my mother's carer and asked me recently this question- though Pescetarian would be more accurate. And so I began to explain, how one afternoon nine years ago a young woman thrust into my hand a leaflet whilst strolling down a high street somewhere in North London. Only to put said leaflet into pocket, and discover it weeks later whilst rifling for a bunch of keys.
'Meat.org' it had read in big, bold, red lettering. And with nothing pressing to do that particular afternoon- and quite bored out of my mind if I remember- I looked them up.
Jodie is listing intently.
"And what I saw" I ventured, "was just, horrific. Barbaric, inhumane." "Murder" I say.
An mpeg had played of a chicken being decapitated with a long bloody blade in an anonymous grey building. The camera capturing the blinking eyes of a life ebbing away; a thin shred of skin and tendon remaining linking head to neck.
Jodie is smiling.
"Your smiling" I say.
"Thing's like that don't bother me." she says.
"Right" is my only response.
Jodie is twenty one, from Enfield and a one time British Karate champion.
"I saw a pig being gutted the other night on TV" she says, in a breezy singsongy voice "they slit it from here to here". She is pressing a finger to her chest and sliding it down to her navel, as she wheels my mum into the bathroom "and all it's guts spilt out." "I was creasing up."
I am disturbed.
After seeing to my mum and bringing her back into the living room, my mother still in one piece, she tells me that she is dying for a fag.
"Your pregnant" I tell here, reminding her of a her condition.
"You don't believe everything the doctor tells you do you? My mum smoked all the time when she was pregnant, It will still land out on it's arse."
Jodie is chewing something. Perhaps 'Chewits'. Once during her 7.45 am call she offered me one. I declined. "Too early in the morning for me, thanks" I replied. "You like Chewits?" I said.
"Yeah love em." "But Wine Gums are better" she said.
posted by mark t at 4:40 pm
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