7 April 2014 (Monday) - Oximeter

I slept well last night, but after the seventeen mile walk that's hardly surprising. I got up to find my little dog still crashed out in his basket. Normally he would move to a sofa or a bed (because he's cheeky like that), but not last night. As I had my toast he dragged himself over for the crusts, then dragged himself back to his basket.
Over brekkie I watched the second episode of "Extras". I had intended to be watching "Game of Thrones", but my SkyPlus box won't have it. I really must take up that offer of a lend of a Blu-Ray boxed set.
Talking of which there was an article about the success of "Game of Thrones" on the morning's radio show. It's been so popular, and its creator was really pleased about how it is the first adult fantasy show to have actually achieved mass popularity.
I just want to see what all the fuss is about.

There was also talk about the missing aeroplane MH370; it would seem that the plane has been located about a mile or so under the ocean. There are moves afoot to get to the thing's black box to find out why it went missing in the first place.
Whilst I do feel for the relatives of the missing; there does seem to have been a lot of effort expended to find the thing. Part of me can't help but wonder who pays the bill.

This morning I had my inaugural visit to the sleep clinic. Oh dear. The plan was to kit me out with a gadget which will measure heart rate and oxygen levels while I sleep tonight. In a complete disregard for patient confidentiality I was lumped in with various other assorted insomniacs to be instructed on the use of the oximeter.
That was fun; one chap flatly refused to sit down during the instruction, and was constantly in the way. And another was using the session as a chance to vent his anger, frustration and hatred at the entire NHS. I did feel sorry for the poor lady who was trying to demonstrate the device; and I said so. That got the standing one to sit down, but the one with the grievances wouldn't stop moaning. He seemed to delight in finding fault at every opportunity; having been asked to return the device in two days time he loudly boasted how unreasonable he thought it was to ask him to try to find the very clinic to which he had reported only fifteen minutes previously. At this point the nice lady had had enough and told him not to bother and to go home. Even that didn't shut him up.

I tried a sax practice at lunch time; after playing the five tunes I can do (yes; five!) I had a go at "When the Saints go Marching In". Unfortunately I had to give up; that tune involves playing a B flat, and I can't do those (yet). I was getting rather Egyptian when the rain started. I had to give up twenty minutes earlier than usual, much to the delight of the scary-looking woman who had been eating her lunch in her car; glaring at me and wincing every time I played the wrong note (she'd winced rather a lot)

The rest of the day was rather dull. I’m off to bed in a minute. Wearing my oximeter. “Furry Face TMhas chewed it several times; he seems to like the taste…

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