I was woken at ten minutes past two
o’clock this morning by the sound of Fudge whimpering. I got up to find him
looking at the bed. Clearly he wanted to get up onto it, but the jump was a bit
much for him. So I lifted him up. Finding myself wide awake I went out and
moved my car. Again I’d parked it in the restricted parking area round the corner.
I can only remain parked there until 8am. That is fine on a work day, but not
today.
With car moved I felt a tad peckish, so
I scoffed some corn flakes whilst watching a very old episode of “Dad’s Army”. About a year or so ago the
BBC ran every single episode of “Dad’s
Army” and I watched the lot. They are re-running them and I’m sure they are
now playing episodes they never played before.
I went back to bed and tried to make
myself comfortable without disturbing my dog. It took some doing, but once
settled I managed to sleep though till nearly eight o’clock.
Over brekkie I found myself reading the
various comments on Facebook surrounding a pro-life
video a friend had posted. The gist of the argument was that African people
don’t want access to legal abortion, and the speaker was advocating banning
legal abortions and was clearly ignoring common sense at every turn.
One of the comments I read summed up the
pro or anti-abortion argument very succinctly: “You can't ban abortions from happening. You can only ban safe, legal
abortions. And that's why talk like this is so scary and dangerous”.
However I was probably watching the
video from an odd perspective. I know the speaker. I gave her a job over ten
years ago (in another life when I was a
manager), and she was one of the few people who stood up for me when I had
a rather nasty episode five and a half years ago (when many so-called friends did not). The speaker is one of the
most decent, likeable, and honest people I know. She is also one of the most
intelligent and highly educated people I know. However she has also got
religion in a big way. Time and again she would deny proven fact and common
sense in favour of blatant nonsense that she’d heard spouted from her priest.
How can intelligent and educated people
have their heads turned by witchcraft and mumbo-jumbo?
I took the dogs for a walk. As we went
through Bowens Field I saw what looked like a white blackbird; I tried to get a
photograph but was too slow. I wonder what it was. We then went on to the park
(having forgotten that being Saturday,
today was the Park Run). We got sworn at by one runner, and his mate loudly
asked if anyone had tried kicking the dogs. Us dog walkers regularly get sworn
at on Saturdays. I’ve watched mothers with push chairs being forced into the
mud.
I complained to the organisers; they
were understanding and polite. It is only a minority of the runners who are
disagreeable, but the organiser summed up the problem when he said that they
tell the runners to share the park with pedestrians, cyclists and dog walkers. Realistically
there are too many runners on a Saturday for the park to be shared. Either they
should stop the run, stagger it into smaller runs, or close the park so the
runners get exclusive use.
I wonder to whom I should suggest this…
I’ve emailed the Park Run people.
Leaving the dogs in the care of "Daddy’s
Little Angel TM" and "Stormageddon - Bringer of
Destruction TM" we
took the train to London, and were soon at Guy’s Hospital visiting mum.
Yesterday she was doing really well, but following intense pain on coughing
they gave her morphine. Today she was not doing well at all. When she wasn’t
asleep she was incredibly confused. We stayed until the end of morning
visiting, then having settled her we left her for a while.
We had a quick cuppa, then went on
a little walk along the river Thames and back. Not knowing the area at all
we planned our route using various geocaches to guide us, and the route worked
well. We saw St Pauls and Tower Bridge and the Globe theatre and the Golden
Hinde and Borough Market, and the walk filled a two and a half hour break when
otherwise we would be fretting about mum.
Afternoon visiting started again at 3.30pm;
whereas in the morning mum had been confused, in the afternoon she was tired.
She was rather tearful, but eventually we settled her. I collared a passing
nurse who confirmed my suspicions. Mum is one of those people who react badly
to morphine, and because she’s not been drinking she’s become dehydrated.
Consequently her system is not clearing the morphine. She’s been put on a drip and
hopefully by tomorrow there should be an improvement. There was talk of
precautionary brain scans, but I’m going to naively hope that this is just
precautionary and ignore all the warnings that the surgery might have brought
on another stroke.
We stayed with mum for a couple of hours longer
than we really needed to; and took the train home again. Once home "er
indoors TM" went off to the Saturday film night. I stayed
home with two rather quiet dogs. I think "Daddy’s Little Angel TM"
and "Stormageddon - Bringer of Destruction TM" had
tired them both out today.
I too was tired. Or, to be precise, drained. I
want my mum back.
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