The Skipping Rope

Dr. James Meredith consulted his patient list and let out a small groan. Not that Mrs Cartwright again, and this time she had brought not only her obnoxious ten year old daughter Ariadne, but also her brow-beaten husband, Fred. He sighed and pressed the buzzer.

One minute later Hilda Cartwright, under full sail, burst in. Her presence seemed to fill his small consulting room, for she was almost as wide as she was tall, late thirties, with a wild mop of bottle blonde hair falling in an untidy curtain to her shoulders. Her face was florid, either from anger, he thought, or from sitting too close to the fire.

Clinging to her skirt was Ariadne, over chubby for her age and wearing her usual sulky expression. Bringing up the rear, in complete contrast came Fred Cartwright, a tall, cadaverous man who always reminded the Doctor of a Turtle trying to dodge back into its shell.

Hilda plonked herself down on the one chair and began her monologue, and the Doctor had the wisdom to let her have her full say before interrupting. It was going to be a long morning.

‘It’s my Ariadne, Doc,’ she began. ‘I bought her a skipping rope, ‘cos I fort some exercise would help wiv’ the weight problem – well she is a little chubby.’ She said, not without a touch of pride and a fond glance at the child.

‘Well, she was ‘avin a skip in the garden, when all of a sudden one of the ‘andles comes orf the rope an’ it’s our precious little Pekinese right on the snout. Now Tyson. (that’s is name ,Doc ) well, he don’t take too kindly to that, so ‘e snatches the rope from my little girl, an she lands with an almighty bump right on top of one of me garden gnomes, catching ‘erself a mighty bruise from ‘is pointy ‘at. You can take a gander at that in a minute, but now comes the rest of the dreadful story.’

Meredith glanced surreptitiously up at the clock hoping it was tea-time. Unfortunately, it was not.

‘My Tyson, is givin' that rope a right seein’ to, now. Shaking it this way an’ that, when, all of a sudden, it gets caught on the bottom rung of a ladder, up which me ‘usband is working, clearing out the guttering.

Well, Tyson, ‘e tugs an tugs, until finally, the ladder gives way and me ‘husband comes a tumblin’ dahn. That wouldn’t of been so bad if ‘ed been working two feet farver along, but he ‘appened to be above the green ows at the time. Anyways, ‘e crashed right froo' the glass and lands on ‘is prize Dahlias. ‘E’s just got a few cuts an’ bruises, but it didn’t do the Dahlias any favours, an’ ‘e was goin to enter them in the Flower Show next week. ‘E’d a been sure ta win first prize wiv ‘em.’

She paused for breath, but before the doctor could speak, she rushed on.

‘After you've fixed .
'em bof up, Doc. I’m gonna contact one of them firm’s wot gets you money for accidents. If you give me a letter, I’ll send it in wiv the photos I took.Should get us a few fahsend, from the shop wot sold me the rope, eh?’ she asked with a wink.

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