Scott The Lad

Scott is nothing else if not resilient. Firstly, he has managed to live with me for the better part of 16 years. Although I am a peace loving, Libran Princess, I can be a she devil on steroids when crossed , there's too much marmalade on my morning toast or my tea is delivered to my bedside in the wrong cup, so let us not underestimate what a truely great feat this is...

Secondly, he’s a larger than life character with a gung ho attitude towards almost any task he undertakes. And he has a medical file the size of the Auckland phone book to show for it. Our local A & E clinic are thinking of providing him with a named carpark and we are on a first name basis with most of the staff. It’s not that he’s clumsy or clutzy you understand, it’s more that he attacks tasks, with vigour and total disregard for life and limb (mainly his own) rather than simply performing them.

For example, there was the time we were having a brick hearth and fire surround constructed at home. The flue needed to be removed so as the wood burner could be removed. This required several trips between the roof and the wood burner.

Now most sane and sensible folk get a ladder and place it somewhere nice and sturdy when they need to get on and off the roof a number of times. But why bother with a ladder when you have a teenage son who can kneel on the wet, slippery and uneven garage roof profile whilst you lever yourself off of his poor straining back onto the main roof of the house? Not once but several times. Never mind the fact that you are a strapping lad of 100 plus kilos, or that your poor teenage child has yet to develop muscles, bone density and the physical strength fit to cope with your 100 plus kilos...Scott is convinced this is one of his better ideas...

Suffice to say it wasn’t very long before there was a yell, a crash, followed by the scariest sound of all...silence. Apparently the long suffering back of the teenage child had given out (no commitment apparently...) there was a fumble and a slip, and before you know it, Scott was swinging off the guttering and drop kicking the living room window.

The words “ah, honey, you better call an ambulance” truly struck fear into the heart of this Princess. Bearing in mind that this is the man who has broken literally every bone in his body, sustained several large cuts, gashes and head injuries (come to think of it, they might explain a lot of behavioural patterns...) without ever needing an ambulance, I was alarmed to say the least. Thankfully, after a few moments of panic, HE calmed down and decided against the ambulance, instead, I was to make the familiar trek to the A & E clinic with a bleeding passenger. All fairly standard stuff.

It wasn’t without it’s challenges however. It meant I had to get the 100 kilo plus man off the roof of the garage, apply eyeliner AND earrings, all before he bled to death. What to do, what to do. I figured there was enough strength left in the teenage child to get father off the roof, so left him to it. Much to the horror of my other children, I then proceeded to apply said eyeliner and earrings in preparation for facing the general public and our old friends at the A & E clinic. I explained that I have standards to uphold, I am a Princess afterall...and the shock of seeing the injured foot was going to be enough for the med staff for one day without adding my naked face to mix.

Eyeliner and earrings in place, I take a peek at the injury, quite frankly it’s lucky I’m made of sturdy royal stock (it looked like a shark attack) and am not the swooning type. An ugly business indeed. Not half as ugly however as the next three days of my life which consisted mainly of performing what was meant to be Scott’s role of brickie’s labourer, general nursing duties, fetching, carrying and emptying the wees bottle...suffice to say, the next time Scott needed a roof visit, the use of teenage children as equipment was expressly banned and he used a ladder.