Oh lordy me. I agreed to be the Meals On Wheels person for two days while Darrylene (Raylene's daughter...do you think someone in the family really wanted boys..?) is away. The temperature is a sunny and roasting 40 odd degrees, or maybe 75 depending on how fed up you are, and the air conditioning in the community care van has broken down. Turning on the vents just turns it into a sort of fan-forced oven, so I put two trays of ice cubes in a tea towel and wrapped it around my neck to help prevent me from passing out while driving.
Gary has also been working in a loader out in the desert which also has no air conditioning, I don't know how he can bear it. Don't your brain cells actually start to melt down at certain temperatures after a little while? This could explain why we keep watching Star Trek and laughing at our own farts.
Anyway, today was hilarious; the van also acts as an informal taxi service, and my first passenger this morning was Nellie Mongoo, taking her from the hospital to her house. Nellie comes from the desert outside Wiluna ("We Make Afghanistan Look Like Fun") - and I mean literally from the desert. Her parents were real, nomadic aborigines living naked in the bush! That's how she lived until she was about ten or so, when they were "taken in" (pun intended?) by a station family and given clothes, food and squalor. Unfortunately this conversation was cut short by the appearance of Elaine Wingo staggering down the middle of the road like a flapping scarecrow - she's one of my meals on wheels clients, weighs about ten pounds soaking wet, and is a bit mad. Or maybe a lot mad. Here's how the conversation went:
A: Elaine? You want a lift somewhere?
E: Binnaboonga lamalalamalama yalg!
N: Dat Elaine, she angry at dem kids.
A: What kids?
E: Yarrgh blinna fuckin kids.
A: Are you all right?
E: Where Pam?
A: Who's Pam?
N: Them fuckin kids. Oh sorry I swearin'!
A: My delicate little ears can take it.
N: Heh heh heh. You da lady with the red bus all right!
A: Come on Elaine, I'll help you into the van.
N: We goin shop Elaine.
A: We are? Aren't we going to your house?
N: Glen not there.
E: I go sit with fuckin Pam at the shops eh. Muttermuttermutter.
A: OK sounds like we're going to the shops. Nellie have you had your medication this morning?
N: No one's givin me no medication.
E: Blagablingalong.
A: This is going to be so much fun to write up in the daily client notes.
Finally after much confusion and a feeling that the Benny Hill music was playing in the background I managed to get everyone sorted out in time for the madness of the lunch deliveries. No one ever seems to be at the delivery address and you wander around trying to find them: "Lunch here for Wendy Abbott." "She at Trevor's." "Oh, okay. Can you tell me where Trevor's is?" "He house round corner next to Wingo's. Where Pam?" "Pam? Who is this Pam?" "She not here."
It's only a five hour shift, but by the end of it I could use some medication myself, if only to stop my mind from asking over and over again "Where Pam? Where Pam?"
No comments:
Post a Comment