Sid woke me with a strange howling noise at half past six. He’d got into a sitting position but couldn’t get up. I helped him up, took him round the garden (where he did nothing) and he bumbled back in and went straight back to sleep.
I made toast, set my COVID test going, and peered into the Internet. Five Facebook friends had birthdays today. I sent out five birthday wishes and stared in frank disbelief at the photo of one of the friends. I can remember him being born. He how has a beard big enough to hide a badger in. Where do the years go?
Facebook also presented be with a begging advert for a charity trying to raise money for sick children. They had a feature on a child with “an undiagnosed blood condition so rare only one other person in the UK has it”. Am I missing something here? If the condition is undiagnosed how does anyone know if it is the same ailment as the other child has? I don’t doubt that either child is ill, but is this bunch the best one to help them?
There were one or two people posting gloating comments at others whose foreign holidays had been scuppered. Mind you I did find myself wondering. Germany won’t let anyone from the UK in, Spain is welcoming UK residents. And both are EU residents. So EU member states *do* have control of their borders? You would be forgiven for thinking that the “Leave” campaigners lied to us all those years ago.
After half an hour I recorded my negative COVID test on-line. It told me that my reporting performance was eighty-nine per cent. Eighty-nine !? I have done a test every four days (without fail) ever since I was told to do so. I call that one hundred per cent (and I’ve got a degree in maths!!)
With Pogo seeming to have perked up from his episode yesterday, I then took him and Treacle up to the co-op field. I took a couple of tennis balls and a ball chucker. The closer to the field we got so the more excited the dogs got. They were both literally squealing in excitement as we walked past the allotments, and we had a good time playing “Fetch” and/or “Stop Your Brother Getting The Ball” depending on which dog got the ball first. I would have liked to have played longer, but the tennis balls had been chewed to destruction and the rain had got rather heavy.
The rain had stopped by the time I got home, and I spent half an hour loading the car with all sorts of rubbish to take to the tip. As I loaded so the postman arrived with my parcel. I’d ordered the five-CD “Compleat Works (misprint) of Ivor Biggun”, and wasted no time telling the Internet about it. Have you ever listened to “The Pharoah of Filth? He might be a tad risqué, but he makes me chuckle.
I then went to the tip via Asda. We needed dog food and whilst I was at it I got beer and cider for our next weekend walk, a bottle of red wine, and some non-chewed tennis balls. The checkout staff in Asda made me chuckle. All were wearing face coverings, and all took the coverings off whenever they had anything to say.
I also went via the home of the first fruit of my loin. Cheryl had loads of stuff to take to the tip as well, and I had orders to collect it all and take it with me.
With tip tipped I collected er indoors TM” and we set off to Argos. Regular readers of this drivel may recall that on Saturday someone (wasn’t me so it don’t leave many other suspects!) poggered our telly. Having done quite a bit of reading up on-line we decided to get the biggest telly that would fit in out telly alcove. There’s no denying I’d been dreading getting the new telly because of all the aggro involved in setting it up, but so far the most difficult thing was attaching the stand. It now does all the stuff that the Sky-Q box throws at it. I suppose I should really plumb in the DVD player, but I’ve got this theory that if I leave it, er indoors TM” might sort it out. Mind you the last time she sorted out the telly we ended up needing a new one…
Bearing in mind we got the last telly on 16 January 2010, I’m wondering if this new telly will also do us for another eleven years.
I then set off out again; this time to the local hospital. I had an annual follow-up appointment after the nasal surgery I had in October 2019. Only six months late…
I arrived at the counter of the ENT clinic where a receptionist (who was wearing her face covering as a necklace) totally failed to make herself heard over the shrieking of the other receptionist and one of the nurses. I actually told her that I couldn’t hear a word she was saying because her mate was shrieking too loudly, but the sarcasm was wasted on her.
Eventually I got in to see the specialist who stuck an endoscope up my nose and told me that although the polyps had returned, there was no sign of the cancer having come back. I smiled sweetly. Not having cancer is something of a result. Mind you, I didn’t know I’d had it in the first place… One lives and learns. Or dies of a cancer one never knew one had.
I suppose can only agree with the Care Quality Commission who say that the hospital requires improvement.
I took my prescription to the local chemist – it should be ready for tomorrow. Then (what with today being pay day) I had a look at our monthly accounts. I suppose that having shelled out on a new telly today they could be a whole lot better. But this is life, isn’t it? Just as the bank balance starts chirping up, someone detonates your telly…
But it could always be worse. In the words of Ivor: “Be brave and wipe the tear-drop from your eye…”
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