Catfishing a Catfish {and other stories} Issue 3

or how the dreaded lurgy did me wrong

Rendered senseless by COVID-19

It is probably more accurate to say I was rendered unconscious by Covid. I spent nearly six days under my duvet, sleeping twenty hours a day. I have rarely felt as ill and incapable of doing anything. I temporarily transformed into one of ‘those’ people - the people I have never fully understood before - the people who have to force themselves to eat.

I was hungry, but the moment I thought about eating something the desire left me. Luckily, I have an amazing sister who is also a wonderful cook and she dropped off individual portions of home-made chicken soup, leek and potato soup, chili, ragu, and balti chicken. I have been tempted to extend my symptoms just to continue receiving the food. It’s a bit like one of those expensive but nutritious schemes where they cook gorgeous food and drop it off at your house each week, except this has been free of charge.

TikTok of the week

This one is mine - I just love “Collinurrmom” so I decided to duet him. Enjoy!

How to get any girl's attention at a party

The time I skidded on my face

My father is Scottish, so I’ve spent many a summer holiday being dragged around battle sites and beautiful scenery in Scotland. As I got older I started visiting independently, particularly at Hogmanay (or New Year’s as you sassanachs call it). My aunt and my cousin lived in the fairly small town of Inveraray.

It is a gorgeous place, with 603 residents and the stunning Inveraray Castle, home to the Duke of Argyll.

In Scotland, particularly in the more rural areas, the custom is to go ‘first-footing’. You wait until midnight on the 1st of January and then you go and step over the threshold of your friends’ houses. You are welcomed with drinks and usually, something to eat - it’s a grand time where everyone you meet on the road is already ‘pished’ and off first-footing themselves.

The incident

I went first-footing with my boyfriend at the time, and when we met people in the street we swapped bottles, took a swig, swapped back, and carried on. By the time we had reached my cousin’s place, I was so drunk that my back teeth were afloat. The rest is a blur. I remember an argument with my boyfriend (I think someone was flirting with him while I half-slumbered face down on the sofa) and I drunkenly tried to swing at him.

This is unusual. I’m a happy and affectionate drunk - usually found hugging strange girls in toilets and telling them I love them. Anyway, he (being much less drunk than me) used nimble footwork to avoid my slow-motion swing, and then I fell.

Skidded actually. On my face. Across the carpet. I came to a gentle stop, still face down, but with a stinging sensation on my nose. My cousin, also drunk, tried to clean the wound with astringent makeup remover and I have a vague recollection of screaming and swearing at her during the process, but the alcohol won and I soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning

I woke up feeling like I’d swallowed the bottom of a birdcage. I gingerly went to the bathroom and then saw myself. I had an inch-wide strip of raw flesh running from my forehead, right down my nose to my chin. It looked like someone had taken a potato peeler and just peeled a strip from the centre of my face.

By the afternoon it had scabbed, a lovely rich dark red scab that cracked and wept every time I moved my face. (The resulting scar lasted nearly a year, first an angry red, and then it faded week by week until it looked like a faint birthmark and then disappeared).

I wanted to hide, but we had a big family meal at the local pub so I tried to put makeup over the scab, but it just made it stand out more prominently so I washed it off and attempted to keep my face in my plate all night.

The chip shop

On the 2nd of January my cousin, my boyfriend and I decided to watch a movie. Because Inveraray is so small the chip shop was also the video rental place (yes, this was a lo-ng time ago). We went in, ordered our food, and browsed the videotapes until our chips were ready. We had a lovely evening in where nobody stared at me and I was beginning to forget my troubles.

My cousin went to the main street the next day to pick up some shopping, and there bumped into one of the lads who worked in the chip shop.

“Who was that girl you were with last night?” he asked her.

“That was my big cousin,” she said (big meaning older in this context, but I was also bigger).

“She must come from somewhere really cold,” he said.

“Why?” asked my bewildered cousin, knowing that I was from sunny Kent.

“Well, she’s got awful frostbite all on her face!”

Thank you

I have to say a massive thank you to all the blueberries who left such lovely comments on my Covid update TikToks and who sent me such loving messages.

It meant a lot. I was isolated by myself, without my children, and was feeling ill and lonely at the same time. I felt a lot less alone when I read the messages and just want to send you all big virtual hugs.

See you next time

Kirsteen