I beg your pardon?

3 July 2005

So, I got my ears irrigated last week.

I said, I GOT MY EARS IRRIGATED LAST WEEK!

Yup, after a week wandering about with my ears full of preparatory oil I got the wax sucked out of them by the practice nurse at my local health centre. And before the more smutty of my readers start preparing ribald comments can I just point out that she was not an oiled and perfumed young nubile with a rubber outfit and incredibly powerful lips.

She was a pleasant middle-aged woman with a machine using warm water and a pump.

Oh, and before the Frank Zappa fans jump in, neither was she a member of the Church of Appliantology.

Nope, she was just an honest, hard-working member of our struggling National Health Service. Although I have to add, she was wearing a rather fetching white coat, and I suppose it's just possible she was wearing stockings to complement the white 4 inch heels. There was certainly a disconcerting seam running up the back of those pleasantly shaped calves...

Anyway, where was I - ah yes, I've had my ears syringed. Sorry, irrigated (new term apparently).

As a result of her ministrations, I've gained around 2khz in the top range of my hearing and discovered a couple of things:

  1. I don't know what the cause is, but all the mixes I've done recently are still harsh by the time they get bounced down, compressed to mp3 format and played back on ordinary speakers
  2. My kids DO mutter when they talk to me, regardless of the noise of computer games and live Big Brother coverage going on in the background

I can't do anything about the first point ( for reasons which will become clear in my next post), but I can do something about the second point.

I can shout at them.

I BEG YOUR PARDON!