Awwwwww NUTS!

If it's not one kid, it's another. Being a mum never stops, even when they are 6' 5", have their own home and are about to be a daddy. I was particularly wakeful, still up and emailing with Cathy at 2am! Then my cell started to ring! For heavens sake, I knew it was Sophie....answered to hear Jordan sobbing on the other end, really crying and saying over and over " Oh MUM! Oh mum!"
My heart sank and immediately I was worried about Mel and the baby ( always such a light and cheery soul, thinking the very worst at every opportunity!)
Then he said " Oh mum, I have the worst pain, really bad pain, please help me!"
I asked him where it hurt and told me " My balls, oh my balls, mum and my belly, please help me!"
Off I went and picked him up, to see that lanky streak of water, walking like John Wayne after an Epic cross mountain horse trek made my mother's heart ache and my mean mouth laugh....quite a bit.
He got in and couldn't sit or bend his legs..picture that if you will, he had to bend his legs because, you know.....half his height are those long legs of his!
It took us 15 minutes to get to the hospital and when we got there he hobbled his way to the reception and said " My balls REALLY HURT! Oh and my name is Jordan *******" I taught him so well, manners and decorum even in times of pain and fear.
HE went off with the Dr and Mel and I sat in the revolting and shameful NHS waiting room.
I was horrified to see that waiting room ( that was actually empty apart from us) it is being remodelled but that is no excuse for how filthy it was. Appalling and as I said shameful.
We made the best of it and had a picnic from the machines and Mel's handbag, she may have been in a hurry and worried about the possibility of future children with her most beloved but she had time to collect crisps, magazines and a baby name book! That's my girl!
We chatted about how she thought the middle of the night will be best to go into labour ( no traffic, marvellous) read every name in the magazine and laughed about the drunken youth brought in by 4 policemen.
Just 18 ( Mel knows him) face smashed up, clothes torn, only one shoe, grimy black socks and drunk as a skunk. The policemen left him and within seconds he slumped over, lifted his legs and head in a puddle of cold minestrone soup ( we hope, empty sup was beside it and some napkins next to it) and he slept. He looked the picture of what is wrong with this generations youth/ country / world....he lifted one arm across his bloody face and we saw that he had his surname tattooed on his inner forearm. Never have I seen a name so ill fitting. It could have been what he wishes he was but sadly, isn't.
Mel told me it is his surname and it was lucky that he was so passed out because, as we were so tired ( 4am at this point) we became very loud and hopelessly silly as we made up captions to go with the photo we SO wanted to take and post on my blog. We'd say his surname and then snort as we said " or NOT" or perhaps " AS IF!"
His surname ......NOBLE.
We didn't take a picture, though we could have as he was so drunk he would never have known and there wasn't a soul about, I just managed to grasp that little bit of human kindness and stop myself because surely that would have been against some kind of human rights or something.
I think I am almost saint like in my reserve because this example of what is wrong with Britain today has some kind of grudge against Jordan and apparently, whenever he is out on the town and drunk ( most days) he feels that his 5' 4" scrawny frame is a good match for the splendid boy I gave birth to.
Apparently he taunts Jordan and picks fights with him every single time, in fact even when he is sober, but in his flat which overlooks the road Jordan takes to work, he will jeer and shout unbecoming names.
Jordan came out to tell us what was happening, saw this kid lying flat out in the waiting room, looked down and said " Very good" and walked on by.
Anyway, at 5.30am when Jordan's twisted and painful testicle had miraculously just untwisted itself, I left because I was very giddy, thinking how miserable I was going to be when I had to get out of bed at 7.30am and Jordan had to wait for a surgeon to get out of the operating room. At 6am Jordan and Mel got weary of waiting and he was allowed to go home, he has to check in with his GP and get checked out and if the pain starts again he has to go right back in, it's very unusual for this to just correct itself. So we'll see.
This morning I went and paid the last £670.50 and the house is ours, we took H's woodworking stuff over and walked around feeling happy, ate lunch and I went for a nap because I was ready to rip some heads off and cry like a weary toddler.
H has done a mountain of packing while I slept and I feel as though we might actually get this done.
Hoorah.