Right, gather round, dear readers, for another episode of Rodger the Dodger, because apparently, the Universe thinks my life is prime-time comedy. Yesterday was Friday (thank you, small mercies), and after Friday Fitness,  I was ready to melt into the sofa and become one with the upholstery. Complete, unapologetic exhaustion. But no, of course not. The fairies of chaos had other plans for my morning.

Matthew, my husband, had finally recovered from yesterday’s beetroot impersonation. The extra dose of Mighty Morphine Power Stranger must be doing its job, cos he’s less ‘angry tomato’ and more ‘mellow plum’ now. Although we’ve learned (the hard way, obviously) that if he skips his dosage time, his Rodger the Dodger pain transforms from a cuddly Gizmo to a full-blown Gremlin. And that’s before midnight, folks. Miss the pill window, and you’re not getting a Mogwai, you’re getting a horror show. Lesson learned. Never let pizza and a game of Uno in the parents’ backyard distract you from taking your drugs.

Yes, yes, I know, I’m digressing again. It’s an art form, really. And don’t pretend you don’t love it, I see you, giggling into your tea.

Back to Friday morning. So, I rock up to NPLCC, ready to prepare the centre for Fitness Friday. Enter K-K-K-K-Karen, who is one of our top-tier volunteers. That’s ‘K’ for Kicking, repeated at least four times before you even think about the ‘aren’. Go on, try it: K-K-K-Karen. I’ll wait…

…No, too slow, I went to pee.

So, K-K-K-K-Karen and I are prepping for Melinie Melon’s gem session. I’m filling the big ol’ water tank (or hot water urn, or commercial kettle, or ‘that giant round metal thing with a tap that spits out scalding water so you don’t have to’). You know the one. Anyway, I fill it, lug it over to the tea trolley, and, of course, the bloody thing starts leaking faster than the willpower of a menopausal woman in a doughnut shop.

So there we are, two grown women, standing around scratching our heads for ten minutes, trying to find the source of the leak. I finally call Matthew to share the news of this disaster, expecting sympathy, or at least a meme. Next thing I know, he teleports into the centre within five minutes, and that’s without the lure of free food. Miracles do happen.

And what happens next? Yep, you guessed it. As soon as Matthew walked through the door, the hot water tank stopped leaking. Just like that. As if it’s suddenly decided it wants to keep its dignity. Can you Adam & Eve it? This overpriced, glorified tin bucket made me look like a right ding-dong in front of my husband and left K-K-K-K-Karen and me speechless.

However, there was a silver lining: Matthew got a hug from Aunty Knife-Thrower, freshly returned from her Scottish tour (lucky cow). After the week I’ve had, I’d gladly elope to the Highlands myself, preferably to one of those tiny islands where I could sit with a candle, pretending I live in the Dark Ages and that life is simple. But who am I kidding? Craziness would find me there too. I could move to the moon and still end up with a kettle that leaks only when no one’s looking. In the end, Friday Fitness class went well, and all the attendees were pumped after 45 minutes of Melinie Melon making them stretch parts they didn’t know they had.

In the spirit of Friday madness, Matthew and I have hatched a plan. Once he’s back on his feet after his operation, we’re going full Alan Sugar, with a Rodger the Dodger merch shop and all. Picture this: Rodger the Dodger car air fresheners, keyrings, T-shirts, the lot….Why? May you ask? … Before you head for your pitchforks and start thinking we’re in it for a cheeky retirement fund, hold your horses!!!! The real goal is to turn these blog posts into an all-in-one comic book, publish them and donate copies to cancer wards, which in turn costs money… I did try and ask Amazon if they would print them for free, but Jeff Bezos told me to go fuck myself. So, I have to raise the money the old-fashioned, decent way instead.

Because, in all honesty, if we can fill even one hospital cancer ward with laughter (and maybe a few groans at my puns), then we’ll have done our friend Clive proud. He was one of the funniest souls we ever knew, but Rodger the Dodger got the better of him this year. Visiting him in that death ward was bleak beyond words, and it made us realise, if there’s one thing those walls need more of, it’s laughter.

So this is for you, buddy!

Have a great weekend, and tune in again next week for more batshit crazy antics!

Chow for Now

Kate x