'hello' said the medical person applying a tourniquey... 'Are you alright?' she stammered. 'It's... it's just these tourniqueys are so hard to spell.' Her voice lead me away from the stupor i had been enjoying, the result of meeting some floor travelling in the opposite direction to me. It's pace quite surprising. My senses being thoroughly wrong footed as a consequence. 'i think there is a 't' on the end there, like 'tourniquet'.' The personal medic pondered this for a small minute (45 seconds, new directive from Brussels)
'Ah yes. I think you are right. How's that then?'
I winced a little wince... maybe it was a big wince... they are hard to measure at the best of times... which this wasn't. 'It feels better with the correct grammar.'
'That isn't grammer that's spelling.'
'Oh I beg your parsnip... how do you do? It's just you look so much like Grandma, she used to shave her head as well... you know, in the summer. She claimed it confounded the bees'