Innit

I had a sleep study last night.

Doctors were trying to catch me out in the middle of a bout of sleep apnea, which I am still sure that I have, even despite the results. 

A sleep study is where they watch you sleeping and tie tubes and wires to you to monitor your breathing etc.

I slept fitfully for 8 hours on my crooked neck, tossing and turning, wires going all everywhere. (I did my neck on Friday. It is painful.)

Not a single incidence of full blown apnea did they see. Sneaky bastard condition must have known it was being observed.

Anyway the nurse was from Lodon and she was black and talked like a yahdie. Actually not like a yahdie at all, like a black girl from Brixton. She was hip.

“Nuffing to do in Adelaide, friends come over and ask me where to go and I dunno what to tell them, eh?”

Why move to Adelaide from London if you want nightlife? I assumed a family reason and this was confirmed. 

She was smiley and friendly, but when she was putting the wires on my neck I saw she had once been a cutter. Plus the scar was lengthwise on her wrist along her arm, so she must have really meant it, poor lady.

For some reason I really wanted to her to say ‘innit.’

Aren’t black Londoners of Jamaican extraction all supposed to say “innit”?

I was even thinking of paying her to say it.

But she never said it. Then in the morning, the nurse was this big fat Middle Eastern guy who ripped all the wires off with brutish haste and kept calling  me “mate” the way a lot of the newly arrived ones do.

I didn’t see her again.

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