I woke rather early, made toast and as I scoffed it I
started something new on Netflix. “Catastrophe” is a
comedy in which some woman gets pregnant off of some American. The first
episode seemed rather good.
I then found myself engrossed in an advert for a pressure
washer which runs from a battery and a bucket of water. Much as I like my
pressure washer, it is a faff running out the cable and the hose. Battery and
bucket might be the way forward, but the reviews on Amazon made me laugh.
Several people giving it a glowing write-up openly admitted they hadn’t used
the thing; they’d bought it because the adverts looked good.
I sent out birthday wishes, loaded the washing machine and
got ready for the morning.
This morning I had an appointment at CPAP department the local
hospital. I turned up at the hospital’s reception desk and asked where I had to
go. The chap behind the counter glared at me, reached under the counter, pulled
out a sign saying they opened in twenty minutes’ time and turned back to what
he was doing. I went and had a cuppa and came back twenty minutes later. The
same chap took one look at me, was all smiles, and before I could say anything
he announced that I had a CPAP machine in the bag I was carrying and told me
where the clinic was. I remarked that it was a shame he couldn’t have been that
helpful twenty minutes earlier, and walked off leaving him looking rather
nonplussed.
I went to the CPAP
machine clinic where the respiratory technician took the old machine from me,
and talked me through how to operate the new one they were giving me. New one? Watching
the old one go was like saying goodbye to an old friend. No one had told me
that I was getting a new one.
Whilst I was there I asked about a follow-up appointment
with the sleep clinic. The person who phoned to arrange this morning’s
appointment with the CPAP clinic assured me that the chap at the CPAP clinic
could arrange a sleep clinic appointment.
The chap at the CPAP clinic assured me he could not.
With that appointment done I walked round to the ENT
clinic; I’ve got a nasal re-bore booked at Canterbury at the end of June. When
I saw the surgeon a few months ago the surgeon assured me that he would operate
at Ashford as that would be more convenient for me. The person who arranged the
date of surgery was crystal clear that the surgeon doesn’t do surgery in
Ashford. The people at the ENT clinic this morning assure me he regularly does
surgery in Ashford.
Getting a lift to Canterbury for 7am, and then a lift home
again in the late afternoon would be rather problematical.
I’ve put in a formal complaint, and resisted making the
observation that with one hundred and twenty
NHS Trusts in the country I am accustomed to working only
one step from the top, and perhaps those in position one hundred and
five might learn from them
I came home, hung the washing out and put more in to scrub,
then took the dogs to the woods. We had a good wander round the woods. It all
passed off rather uneventfully which is always a good thing.
An hour and three and a half miles later we were back at
the car. We came home and hung out more washing. I sorted cuppa and cake for me
and “er indoors TM”, then went on a little mission. Having
acquired a little bath for the expanded bog filter I needed to attach a water
outlet. I got the attachment I needed (and some fat balls and gecko
ornaments too) but the garden centre didn’t have any O-rings. Without
O-rings I might get a leak. The lad in Wickes had never heard of O-rings.
Screwfix and Toolstation didn’t have any big enough, neither did the two
hardware shops at the market. Grudgingly I tried B&Q. They had what I
needed, but weren’t as helpful as they might be. Normally I wouldn’t shop
there, but needs must. As I used the self-service checkout the thing gave me a
message that staff carry out random checks on shoppers. As I walked out so a
member of their staff walked up to me. I told him that if he wanted to check my
shopping he’d had his chance when I was at the checkout. If they are going to
expect customers to operate the till themselves they have to expect customers
to take the opportunity to pocket what they can. The chap pissed off without
comment. As well he should.
I came home, had a spot of lunch then had the genius idea
that the little bath will need a flat surface on which to sit. Five minutes on the
Internet came up with what I needed, so I set off again.
I drove down to the garden centre in Bethersden, got the
slabs and one or two other odds and sods and completely forgot what happened the
last time I bought that sort of garden slab. The edges are very sharp, and I
cut my hand open.
Once the bleeding stopped I knacked my back getting the
slabs into the car, and once home knacked it further getting the slabs into the
back garden.
I watered the plants, and called a halt to doing things
today. A trip to the hospital, a dog walk, some shopping and I’d walked sixteen
thousand steps and done my back.
Today’s plan had been to wash the new bathtub, and that is
still on the to-do list…
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