The Disappearance of Lily, Yet again…

Folks, I must humbly apologise for such a lengthy absence, for I have been to a place where only despair and desolation resides. A place where the mournful wails of the forlorn and the forgotten crash dejectedly upon disheartened ears, drowning me in a morass of melancholia and burdening my heavy heart. I had sought to break free from such bleakness, such untold desperation, but the path ahead proved to be long and ever winding. Eventually, after a long and arduous journey, I spied the brightness of a yellow glow that would hasten me on my way to blessed freedom. And thus, I was able to find the exit to IKEA and to finally return home in time for ‘The Voice.’.


Survival map of IKEA

So, on to today’s slice of real life drama. Now as some you may know, Spawn has what the professionals like to term as a wonky brain high functioning autism (aspergers) and so is often viewed by some as being a little bit of a bastard eccentric. To say that his view of social norms is slightly different to that of everyday people would be a huge understatement. So in order for him to be able to make sense of the world, he regularly sees a therapist.

The waiting room. Is there anywhere as forlorn and as desolate as a waiting room? It is a place designed for many but in which few wish to attend. Where the seats  are adjacent to their neighbour but where only the minimalist of contact is made. Eyes avert whilst sitting in a waiting room and everything from the crack in the ceiling to the stains on the carpet, becomes increasingly more interesting then those that inhabit it’s bleakness. The walls once an egg shell white, are now a colour  no longer identifiable on the Dulux colour chart and the tables groan beneath the weight of tired magazines, where men still sport mullets and women burst with joy at the prospect of of using products that will keep their Lady Gardens smelling like an autumn’s breeze. And here we were, Spawn and I in one such place. The receptionist behind the desk, was reminiscent of one whose face had concaved in upon itself and was still in a state of trying to expand outwards back to normality, whilst all around us, a deathly silence reigned. So, this was probably not the best conversation to have with one’s child, whilst sitting in the waiting room of a children’s family therapist office.


“Ooh, you know those new Always panty pads that I purchased last week? Did you know that they’re actually perfumed?”


 “If I pretend that I’m actually listening to your witless chattering whilst really, I’m slowly dying inside, will you stop talking?”


 “No. Anyway, apparently they contain a neutralizing odour with something called acti-pearls.”

Now lets us take a minute to pause and to note that most ‘normal’ teenage boys with a moderately functioning cranium and when presented with the topic of feminine hygiene products, would have probably responded with one of the following:

  “Eww, you’re not seriously going to talk to me about feminine hygiene products are you?”


“It’s a good thing that  I’m in the right place for such a traumatic event. I wish I was dead.”


 “No wonder dad left you.”

 But oh no, not my Spawn. Like an intrepid hunter who knows better than to look into the eyes of a wild beast, he chose to engage.


“Now why? Why would they do such a thing? Good god! What foul odour emits from the loins of women if someone sought to mask it’s reek?”


“Remember that time we went to Billingsgate fish market?”



“Anyway, I admit that it’s a ridiculous idea. As if somebody is going to place their face directly into a woman’s crotch and say, ‘Mmmm, I love the neutralizing odour of your acti-pearls’.”


“God help the poor man who would even attempt to do such a thing despite the crazy shining in your eyes. You’d probably hold his face firmly in place and then announce that because he sniffed at your acti-pearls, you are to be married forthwith”.


“Hey, if someone is going to sniff my acti-pearls,then  they’d better damn well buy me dinner first. So…do you want to sniff my acti-pearls?”


“I’m not marrying you.”


“I’ve got one in my bag. Go on, have a sniff.”


“Mother, I do not wish to sniff your haemoglobin absorbing material.”


“Go on, take a little whiff. It’s got quite a pleasant odour. That’ll be the acti-pearls.


“Again and I say this quite forcibly, I do not wish to inhale the aroma of your vital fluid catcher!”





“Well I’ve suffered through worse atrocities in my short life, like seeing you naked so I’m surmising that sniffing your crotch lining, isn’t going to seem out of the ordinary.” (takes a sniff of the pad with it’s neutralizing odour) “Actually, that’s quite pleasant.”


“Do you think so? I’m not that keen on it. It kinda has a sweet smell to it and I prefer a more musky scent.”

“I doubt very much mother, that musky is the kind of smell a women wants to exude when she is on her period. Wait, you’re going to write about this in your blog aren’t you?”


*Actually folks, Spawn has been ill and I’m still trying to get to grips with my father passing. But I’m back and hoping to catch up on all the wonderful blogs that I’ve missed.



31 thoughts on “The Disappearance of Lily, Yet again…

  1. We missed you Miss Lily. Good to see you back. Those darn acti-pearls will contaminate all of your shopping if you’re not careful. I speak from a place of experience. And now that we’re all saving and reusing our carrier bags it’s a whiff that keeps on wafting.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you Kim. 🙂
      Ooh, that sounds like a story worth telling. It’s like a SUN headline, “acti-pearls go on a rampage and contaminate food supply.”
      I think acti-pearl scented carrier bags could be a winner, along with acti-pearl scented bin bags, acti-pearl scented candles, acti-pearl air freshener, acti-pearl…well you get the gist. Plus you’ve already come up with the tag line, “It’s a whiff that keeps on wafting.” Actually, that describes Julie from across the road, except she DOESN’T use acti-pearls.


  2. I am sorry to hear of your father’s passing and Spawn’s illness. And I am very glad you’re back. If I can do anything, even just make a crude joke to make you smile, just say the word.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The sad fact C.J. is that this is Spawn and I on a normal day! The poor boy is so use to my craziness, that he just goes along with it…mind you, it helps that he’s somewhat demented too.

      So glad you enjoyed it. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Just think. There are some mother/son relationships that don’t share a quarter of the things you do with the (soon to be) ruler of the world.
    The experiences he gains from your insights and…um other things… are sure to set him up good and proper from the true horrors of this world!
    You should get Mum of the year for forcing him to inhale your (I assume) unused sanitary towels.
    What a lovely Valentines gift.

    In other news – I’m glad you are back because now I have 2 readers of my own blog (hahaha *sob*) and it’s not the same without you.

    Also… I hope things get better for you in the real life world. (I’m not very good at emotional stuff).
    Glad to have you back Lil. :O)

    Liked by 1 person

    • Let’s face it Mr H, our mother/son relationship is like Channing Tatum playing Gambit, just plain wrong. The man should just stick to ripping of his clothes and contracting those biceps, whilst undulating sexily across the dance floor…er…I seem to have wandered off topic…
      And of course it was a unused sanitary towel. What kind of a woman do you take me for? DON’T answer that!

      Heehee, you not being good at the emotional stuff, makes me feel some so much better. Makes up for my own ineptitude when I’m in a similar situation.
      Right, I’m off to look up what ineptitude means. Thanks Mr H…ooh look, you did an emoticon…hypocrite! 🙂


  4. Well Miss Lily I think we all knew that something was a miss. It is an odd thing when your folks die in many ways. I am guessing you and your dad were close or you would not have sneaked that in at the end of the post. Being somewhat older than yourself I will say the most worrying aspect of losing the generation above me to old age is I am part of the oldest generation. That means that the generations below me now eye me up and down and prod at me at times whispering to each other . . . . is he still moving . . . . and such things, and wondering if I am still sane as I point at invisible seagulls shouting. . . . get it away with its green eyes AAAaaauuuuugggghhhh . . . . OK I know that does not sound normal but being part of the oldest generation needs a few perks and acting loony is one of the better ones.

    I hope you and the Lil man are OK. I think you and the Lil Man should watch an old TV series called . . . Taking Over the Asylum. . . . . It is rather good and even has a rather young Dr Who in it. It sort of makes the point of What is normal and quite frankly who wants to be normal as defined by society anyway. . . .

    And you must be good . . . OK try to be good-ish a bit

    Liked by 2 people

    • Oh Mr Z, how I’ve missed your essay like comments. I wasn’t particular close to my dad growing up but he was still my dad. The fact that one of the people who gave you life, is no longer on this mortal coil, is a major thing to comprehend.
      Lil man is on the mend…well physically. Mentally however…er…the jury is still out on that one.
      The sooner that boy goes back to school, the sooner I can stop smoking crack.

      Taking over the Asylum, isn’t that with Mr David Tennant? I shall have to check that out once I let the lil man out from the cupboard under the stairs. Seriously, the child is driving me more insane that then the doctors originally diagnosed! And I’m always good…*ahem*


  5. It’s good to hear from you again. You’ve been missed.

    I’m so sorry to hear about your father. Hang in there, kiddo.

    I hope Spawn is feeling better by now, and back to feeling up to providing you lots of new fodder for your blog. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you Susan.

      Wherever my old man is right now, I’m sure he’s annoying the buggery out of someone.

      Spawn is much better thanks. His ambition of achieving world domination and becoming a tyrannical despotic ruler is back on track. If only he would cleaning his sodding room!


    • Disgusting? Can’t a woman have an innocent conversation with her son, about the lingering odour of her knicker lining?

      Thanks Dan. I did post a rather unsubtle picture of a coffin falling off the back of a hearse on Facebook…classy? Never!


  6. Ikea. Never been. Never will.
    So nice to have you
    Back. I have reasons to be happy now.
    So sorry to hear about your dad. Never a good thing and always so desperately sad. As for Spawn, glad to hear he’s getting better.
    This post is gross! Loved it! You always seem to be at your bestest when you’re at your grossest.
    Oh Lily. Great to have you back again.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Mr D, you’ve never been to the place of shiny bright things? IKEA is a wondrous place, but structured in a way that once you enter, you can NEVER LEAVE…

      Thank you. Buried the old man last Thursday, so still getting to grips with things. Spawn is on the mend hence why my butt hurts…on account of him being a major pain in my arse.

      Hahaha! I want that as my tag line, ‘Lily, always at her bestest when she’s at her grossest.’
      Thank you Mr D!


  7. Missed you, Lily, so glad you’re back! 🙂 OMG, this is totally hysterical!! Waiting rooms are sooo boring (your description nailed it perfectly). Can you just imagine how unglued anyone listening would become hearing a conversation between a mother and son about sniffing scented sanitary pads?! Oh what fun it would be watching their reaction as you pull one out of your purse to be sniffed LOL!

    I hope Spawn feels better very soon. Lily, I understand about coming to grips with your father’s passing and I’m sending lots of hugs!! Btw, I love shopping at Ikea, I can easily make an entire day out of it, so much interesting stuff…and the food!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you sweet Madilyn.
      I thought I was using my ‘quiet voice’ when I asked Spawn to sniff the acti-pearls, but apparently, my quiet voice is the same as my shouty voice. I thought the receptionist was going to have a coronary!

      It’s half term over here, so Spawn has an extra week to recuperate fully. After that, he’s not allowed to stay home EVER AGAIN unless he’s bleeding from every office…which might happen sooner rather than later if he keeps helping himself to my chocolate stash.

      Next time I move house, I’m just going to move into Ikea.

      Thanks for the hugs. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  8. While reading the first paragraph, I assumed you’d been to the department of motor vehicles.
    Great exchange with Spawn. Now, I feel really blessed to have never had those types of conversations with my mother.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh the description for the department of motor vehicles, would have been much bleaker than what I had described…much bleaker.

      I’m sure that Spawn loves our conversations. His cries of “what the hell is wrong with you woman?” “I wish I was adopted,” and “please Lord, just take me now, “are all done in jest…maybe…


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