And Black Scrubs, I Wanna Meet Black Scrubs

October 20, 2008

“Morning’s Here
The Morning is Here
Sunshine is Here
The Sky is Clear
The Morning’s here
Get into Gear
Breakfast is near
The Dark of Night Has Disappeared”


Hello everyone! And good morning! As you may or may not be able to tell, I am feeling rather musical today.


I. Am. Such. A. Morning. Person. Female population who have had the misfortune to wake up next to me, I pity you, I really do.


And I’m in a great fucking mood. Maybe because its my birthday is tomorrow. I have decided that I am going to wear a badge ALL DAY, which means buying myself a birthday card with a badge on it at some point today, which might be the saddest thing EVER, but you know something? I don’t give a fuck.


I left this blog on Thursday, so let’s try and recap the weekend, and bring you up to speed in the world of me in the briefest fashion possible.


Let’s see… well, I wrote this blog Thursday morning… so… let’s start with Thursday night.


For the first time in my life, I am able to tell you all (or anyone else, for that matter) something shocking: I don’t get it.


I do not get my ‘Biological Basis of Behaviour’ class in the slightest. But that’s ok. Once, (yes, once you sniggering lot at the back) I was plagued with a sort of insecure arrogance that would (a) never let me admit this, or (b) pretend I knew anyway, but these days, I’m pretty ok with not being the smartest guy in the room. Or attempting to be so. Though I did manage to get up at the front of the class and draw a diagram – raising some wholesome laughs in the process. So all is not lost.


Oh, and I had that dream where I am being chased again. I’m not sure I like that one so much.


I had decided to take the Friday off work, so I could play ‘good son’ and look after my mother, who had a hysterectomy on Wednesday.


hys·ter·ec·to·my      /ˌhɪs ˈrɛk mi/ Pronunciation Key – [his-tuhrek-tuh-mee]

excision of the uterus.


Being a fairly a-typical Jewish mother, my mother is fairly moan-y at the best of times. (read: all the time) But as a patient, she’s truly a complete nightmare. First, it began with my seeming inability to make coffee to the exact colour and consistency she desired. Then, after going to 3 different supermarkets to get all the various groceries she wanted, none of it was right. Despite never eating – and never planning to – smoked salmon, and never even as much as looking at it in the fridge, I was supposed to instinctively know what brand, consistency and cut it was she wanted. I didn’t. And then there was ‘milkgate’ – whereby I notice there’s no milk, buy the milk, and am then branded ‘stupid’ for daring to buy a rather large one (there’s 10 decorators in the house as well as my mother and I right now) that she couldn’t carry.


For the entirety of Friday, my mother managed to act like a complete 5 year old – including an unintentionally very funny conversation that something like:


Mother (shouting): David! I’m starving! I haven’t eaten all day. (except breakfast and lunch that is, mother dear)

Me: Ok, well tell me what you want, and I’ll make it, buy it, order it.

Mother: (who quite literally crossed her arms and pouted) I don’t know.


I was extraordinarily happy when she told me she was finally going to bed – I went to see my wonderful friend from Yorkshire, Helen, and then, for some reason, decided to go shopping on my way home, buying a birthday card, a gift bad and some shampoo and conditioner. Because IT’S MY BIRTHDAY TOMORROW and being that I’m getting old, I need to start looking after my hair before it all falls out – because that happens, apparently.


A quick haircut (and my first birthday card, hurrah!) was the first port of call Saturday morning, followed by some quick nursing, and my best friend’s daughter’s first birthday party. I bought some baby Ugg Boots, and a baby DKNY scarf, because I’m a nice guy, and I love that kid.


I stayed at the party for about an hour before heading home to more running around for a slightly less moody mother. I was (quite literally) forced into watching ‘X Factor’ – am I the only one who thinks it’s just a glorified karaoke show? – Though some of them are very good, in fairness – and the accompanying results show, having given up my Saturday night as well as my Friday to play doctor. My father, in a rather ingenious move, had managed to get to Paris for the weekend for a ‘very important’ food fair.


Many, many moons ago – if I can be lunar for just a moment – I worked in a little place called The Ice Bar, ( a bar kept at sub-zero temperatures (-6 if memory serves) and where everything is made of ice – the bar, the glasses, and, occasionally my penis, such was the cold. Anyway, all these years ago, 4 American girls came into the bar, and we made friends. They were students in London for a couple of months, I got them (very) drunk for free, and we’d go out to London’s finest and not so finest clubs and bars. It was a real wretch to say goodbye to them all.


Fast forward to today, and I am still in contact with them all – through Facebook or whatever. A couple of weeks ago, one of the girls contacted me to tell me a friend of hers was coming to London for a couple of weeks, and would I mind showing her around? ‘Of course,’ I answered. ‘It’d be a pleasure.’

And so, yesterday, that’s just what I did.


In my Facebook conversations with Anna, I had given her the two pieces of essential advice all visitors to London should be armed with:


  1. The only public bathrooms you should EVER use are in Trafalgar Square
  2. Instead of spending days on foot in London looking at things, take the open top bus tour, and get it out of the way in two hours.


Fortunately, she had followed both of these, so I didn’t need to worry about wandering around The Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, or any of that other nonsense.


We met in Leicester Square, and began by taking a walk down Regent Street and Oxford Street, and having tea in St Christopher’s Place, ( one of those secret/not so secret places in London, which manages to be less than a minutes walk from Oxford Street, but is nowhere near as busy. Originally, my plan was to see The Wallace Collection ( but the weather was far too nice for that sort of thing, so we decided to go to Covent Garden instead, going via Oxford Street, New Bond Street, Piccadilly Circus, and the Diwalli festival at Trafalgar Square. We had a quick walk around Covent Garden, tried to see the Royal Opera House (it was closed) and settled for lunch in the square, where I answered what seemed to be 1,467,463 questions about where to go and what to see. Luckily, I’m full of useless information.


Anna decided she wanted to go to the Design Museum (where I am going for a Halloween ball: which was in South London, and being that I had promised to be back home by about 5 to check my mother was still functioning, we walked back to Leicester Square, and got on our respective Underground trains, just in time for me to get home and watch my team lose at football again.


And then, last night, It was out with my friend Dionne for some drinks in Camden Town, before retiring early and finally getting some rest.


And that, as they say, is that. A long weekend indeed, but much fun as always.


I shall leave you for today with wishes of love and happiness, and speak to you all tomorrow, when I will no longer be able to select ‘age: 28’ on the running machine.


Lots of love,

Closed Box


5 Responses to “And Black Scrubs, I Wanna Meet Black Scrubs”

  1. UrbanVox Says:

    wow… that was one busy weekend…
    not like me…
    I did NOTHING! hehehe
    well… that is apart of playing Lego (and Lego Star Wars 2 for X-Box) with my 4 year old son! 🙂
    I woke up SO rested today… and ready for everything life could trow at me! (that is till I discovered someone hacked the website of one of my clients over the weekend… grrrrrr)
    Well back to work then… 🙂

  2. Neil Manchester Says:


    Only one smoked salmon in the world really worth eating: try and look for flaky smoked salmon. Your mother will love you forever.

    As we all do.

    Happy birthday for tomorrow if I don’t manage to make contact.

    And your hair won’t just fall out. Look at mine and I must be, ooh, ten years older than you already.

  3. David Levy Says:

    …and the rest, Neil!

    I am now well versed enough to know that the only salmon I am allowed to buy is from Marks and Spencers in a clear package…

  4. Powerless and afraid(less so) Says:

    I am one year less than you. But age is just a number.

    However the few grey hairs i spotted the other day are not numbers.

    I am terrified.

  5. mscheevious Says:

    Wow – that was a great story – and glad you were happy. One should always be happy around one’s birthday!

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