Adventuring in pictures with ringworm, ointment and steroids

I got some paint on my phone, and it appears that I can’t type for very long without it all deleting itself. Which might be an advantage. 

This is a picture of a chap I met down the pool hall. He was in charge of his stroke and he kept on trying to play me for money. But I wasn’t having it, cos he was better than me. Everyone knew it. They wrote about him in the magazine they put through your door with all the trades people in it. 

So I left there, and went to where I could get some peace. 

I went to the water treatment plant and met this man there and his name was Marvin, or Martin, or he did not have a name because the light on his face was not in the right place. But his heart was - though I have yet to paint it. 

Anyway, he said I could spend the afternoon in the canteen drinking cups of tea and watching the World Cup qualifiers on my phone if no one was looking, but I said I was alright ta, I had to be getting off to attend to a task for the mother. She had just bought a new lawnmower. She wanted us to pick it up. 

Bloody hell, he said.

I nodded emphatically and my face exploded in lots of lines like this. 

He suggested I could get something for it. Perhaps some financial repercussions, or an ointment or cream with a bit of a steroid in it.

But I didn’t fancy that. Besides, I said, the queue in Boots is massive on a Saturday. You just end up standing around all the supplements and effervescent tablets reading the instructions and the ingredients, and why do you have to not drink green tea when taking this?

The man behind the counter looked directly at me and my necessary magnifying glass, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to read the small print. 

He said my cream was ready with the little bit of steroids in it, but I said I wasn’t going to take it cos it might create a different problem.

The man said it was good I wasn’t going to take it, as it was a topical ointment and not to be ingested. 

I said this was great and wandered straight into this lass with an equally awkward looking face with lines on it. 

I said to her, ‘There’s ab ointment for it, but don’t ingest it: it’s topical.’

She had noise cancelling headphones in. She just looked at us. She said she was sick of the smell of garlic around the house. She was off for a coffee. She showed us this scab on her arm. She said it was ring worm. 

I looked at the cat. She looked back at us like this