6 - Numb Knees, Carfluted Ears and Spare Zs

This morning I leapt out of bed to find my knees were numb. It was just a surprise, not a problem, as they de-numbed themselves within a minute - it just hadn't happened before and felt weird.

Now, numb knees sounds medically poetic and so is sure to become the next pandemic … Black Plague, Influenza, Bird Flu, Carfluted Ears, Numb Knees. It fits the pattern and I can just see drug company executives wildly leaping up, commanding their advertisers to concoct yet another million-dollar campaign; this time to scare the bejeezers out of us all and have us pouring in to buy their new magic elixir to save us from Carfluted Ears and Numb Knees (consequence horrendous and unproved, as usual), thereby giving them 1,000% return on their advertising investment. They would, of course, have to provide holidays and other goodies to the doctors who would, then, prescribe the new anti-carfluted-ears and anti-numb-knees snake oil.

I mean, just how many sneezing birds did you ever see? The bird flu was an expensive and profitable hoax, as was the meningitis scare. Though the consequences of meningitis are dire, the cure is simple - good old vitamin C.

We used to have "a cold going round". Then we had epidemics. Now they're all pandemics. What will we have next - cerbademics?

And, talking of knees, who was the great irk, the narfled wallop, who put Ks in front of the N-starting words - knuckle, knife, know and so on? Such an ink- and time-wasting exercise.

Thinking about that as carfluted ears and numb knees beset my body, I realised that we use so few Zs that there must be a huge pile of unused ones, lying about somewhere. In the spirit of drug company entrepreneurism, I hereby pronounce that all C-starting words must now start with a Z. I have zcollected all the billions of Zs and now have them for sale, for a ZChristian profit. You, as a zconsumer, need to pay me zcash in order to zcorrectly spell any word zcommencing with C. The zconsequences of not using Zs and Cs zcorrectly will be a zcerbademic of zcarfluted ears and numb knees. "Zcor blimey," I hear you zcomment, "I must zcanter off to the zchemist to stock up on Zs!" To which I zcallously, zcheekily and zcryptically say, "Zcarry on!"

Meanwhile, back at the ranch … actually, back in Croydon … Arthur Bayly's story continues …

She plonked herself on the seat, beside him, with a sigh and a smile, and he wondered how she'd got there without him noticing.

"Now, Sir," she said, looking directly into his eyes, which he found a little disconcerting, "how are you feeling? A little less shaky?"

"Ah, yes, a little steadier, thank you Constable," he said, examining his shoes.

"Amanda, please call me Amanda. Now, a question that might seem a little strange," she said in an accent he suddenly realised was definitely not an English one and was one he'd heard before, quite recently. "Why do you think you attracted this series of upsetting events to you?"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, not quite understanding the question.

"I thought you'd find it strange. While you're pondering it, why don't we pop over to my favourite café and we'll reflect on life," she said, "and I'll take your statement."

"Well, yes, that sounds good."

"Unless you have a favourite café?" she asked.

"Well, actually, I've never been inside a café till this morning."

"What, you haven't? Your education is sadly lacking, Arthur. Let me treat you!" she said, bounding up and taking his hand to help him rise.

"Gosh, how very gallant of you," he said, bowing, "how can I refuse such an offer!"

She tripped along, her golden curls bouncing in the sunlight and he had trouble keeping up. She ordered their coffees and they sat at a bench seat looking through the window onto the street.

"Good. Now, as I said, I was made redundant three years ago," said Amanda. "I'd worked for them, the shipping firm, since I left university - ten years I was there. I was shocked, I was depressed and I lost it."

"Lost it?" asked Arthur.

"Yes, lost it," said Amanda. "The shipping business was in a downturn and they had to put people off - I was one of the lucky ones!"

"But it wasn't your fault, Amanda," said Arthur. "My situation's different - it's definitely personal and they see me as incompetent, not just surplus."

"Arthur, whether it's your fault or not, it still feels like your fault," said Amanda. "Besides, whether it's your fault or not, it doesn't matter. The fact is, you're out of a job and you feel like crap … oh, sorry, you feel horrible."

Arthur laughed. "Yes, I do feel like crap, though I dare say I've never used that word before."

"Ok, crap it is," said Amanda chuckling. "And that crap immobilized me. I suppose I became depressed, though depression's what you do, not what you are."

"What you do?" asked Arthur, confused.

"Yes, depression's what you do and I'll explain that in a minute," said Amanda, talking faster and faster as if she had so many words to get out in a limited time. "I just became unable to function. I couldn't bring myself to look for another job, to apply for an unemployment benefit, to see my friends, to tell my family … sometimes I just couldn't get myself out of bed for days, except to eat and pee. At times I wanted it all to end but I couldn't be bothered doing anything to end my life ... I couldn't even do that properly!"

"Goodness, that's … terrible," said Arthur.

"Yes, it was terrible, oppressing and debilitating." said Amanda quietly. "It was also the best thing that ever happened to me."

"The best …"

"Yep, the best thing ever," said Amanda, brightening again. "You see, Arthur, as I lay in my bed or lounged in my apartment that was getting grubbier and grubbier, I saw myself as totally useless, no point to being here and I cried and cried and yelled at God, the world and everything else. I fumed, I bellowed, I cried and I went down screaming, sobbing. Eventually I stopped fighting. I was just too exhausted. That was when I wanted it to end."

"You mean … suicide?" asked Arthur, shocked.

"Suicide, earthquake, bombing … I didn't care how it ended, I just wanted it to," said Amanda fiercely. "Of course, with no income, I'd used up all my savings and I had to do something - my parents lived nearby, in New Zealand, but I couldn't ask them for help. I couldn't tell them or anyone else about how useless I was. I was so ashamed …"

"You poor thing, Amanda."

"You might say that! I thought it - 'you poor thing, Amanda' - and, after six months of all this pity for poor Amanda, I finally gave up. I gave in. I said to whoever was listening - God, the universe, Buddha, Mother Mary, Jesus, anyone - Enough, I've had enough! I was just sick of it all and desperately wanted something to change … anything to change. I cried so hard my skin hurt ... all over. Then, pffttt, it was all over!"

"Pffttt?" asked Arthur, bemused.

"Yes, pffttt," said Amanda, giggling at the thought. "Pffttt, it was all over. Like a small ray of sunshine piercing the clouds, I woke from my bad dream and didn't want this misery any more."

"But you didn't want misery anyway!" said Arthur, feeling the abyss of confusion drawing him down again.

"No, I wouldn't have thought so at the time," said Amanda, wiping her eyes. "But the reality is that I was sad, miserable, crying and every other stupid thing because I wanted to be. It suited some silly need in me to wallow in self-pity. So I wallowed and then, for some reason when the pain was too much or I was bored with it, I'd had enough. Pffttt!"

"Oh! Oh dear, I hadn't thought of it like that," said Arthur, seeing his own sunlight through a cloudy mind.

"And when I'd had my pffttt moment, when I said "Enough!" to the Universe, my mind changed from one of pity to one of recovery - how can I get out of this?" said Amanda. "Then Brian turned up. Amazing timing, really. But, as I learned, there's no such thing as a coincidence - there's just you and me and everybody else asking for what we want and then, pffttt, getting it!"

"Oh dear," said Arthur, seeing his ray of sunshine lighting a piece of reality. "So you're saying I actually asked to be made redundant ... I actually wanted this to happen ... and the accident with that criminal ..."

"You probably won't want to hear this but yep!" said Amanda. "Maybe you've had enough of your job, for whatever reason, and you're looking for some adventure, some excitement, something exotic ..."

"Well, I do seem to be thinking of Australia ... or is it New Zealand, I'm not sure," said Arthur, feeling strangely uncomfortable, in a world that didn't quite fit any more.

"And so you bump into a Kiwi - me!"

"A Kiwi?"

"A New Zealander, Arthur, we call ourselves Kiwis," said Amanda.

"Oh I see," said Arthur, absorbing yet another new fact. "Actually, you're the second New ... Kiwi I've met today. Two lovely young ladies and both so helpful!"

"Aah, helpful," said Amanda, savouring the word and clapping her hands gleefully. "You see, the universe really does want you to realise that all the help you want is there. It's trying to let you know help's available - just ask."

"Just ask?" said Arthur. "Ask who?"

"Ask the universe, silly," said Amanda punching his arm playfully. "In your head, out loud, in prayer. It doesn't matter, just ask. You've already got two helpful Kiwis without consciously asking so think what you'll get if you do ask."

"Oh, ah, yes," said Arthur, feeling as if the swamp through which he had been trudging his whole life was, finally, starting to release his feet.

"So what did you do next?" asked Arthur, becoming very concerned, while remembering that the person telling this dreadful story was a fully functioning policewoman now.

"Well, actually Arthur, I did nothing at all - I just said Enough with a passion I'd never felt before and the universe took over," said Amanda, smiling at the memory.

"The universe?" asked Arthur, starting to feel lost.

"Universe, God, Buddha, spirit guides, Aunty Mavis … whatever you like to call whatever you believe in … whatever you feel that it is that's bigger than any of us," said Amanda, trying to slow down for a concerned-looking Arthur. "I don't know how it happened, really, but it did."

"What did, Amanda?"

"The magic, Arthur, the magic," said Amanda.

"The magic?" asked Arthur, feeling totally lost and wondering if this girl wasn't a bit insane.

"Sounds a bit insane, doesn't it?" asked Amanda. All Arthur could manage was a silly smile. "You see, Arthur, I called for help, with passion, and it turned up," said Amanda. "I yelled, in my head, in my bed, so no one could hear: Enough. Enough. I've had enough! And things started to happen."

"Things?" asked Arthur, feeling things returning to normal a little.

"Yes, things," said Amanda. The next morning I received a letter from Her Majesty's very kind Tax Department, suggesting that if I had been made redundant or if my income was under a certain level, I might be in for a refund. You have no idea how something that simple can lift a person's spirits - especially someone who has lost all faith in everything. Suddenly, without effort on my part, I was being offered help."

"Did you get the refund?" asked Arthur, feeling some hope for himself.

"Ever-practical Arthur," said Amanda, laughing. "I didn't have the energy, at the time, to do anything about it. I just felt a little better, a little supported. That was all that mattered then. And, yes, I did get a refund and I badly needed it then!"