Last night, I forgot my password to order my pills on-line. Or I thought I did. What I had actually forgotten was my user name. As I was drifting off to sleep I realised what I had been doing wrong, made a mental note, woke Julia to ask her to remind me in the morning (She wasn’t happy. Some people can be very cranky when woken to assist a loved one.) and went to sleep a happy man. This morning she suggested that I really should make sure I have a note pad next to the bed. This, it seems, will prevent serious repercussions if I wake her in the middle of the night again.
Chalk up another one under the heading of “senior moment”. I really must write all this stuff down, despite the instructions from the NHS about not writing usernames and passwords down. It’s not as if I’m a conduit to a desirable cache of narcotics – there are no users sleeping rough and wondering about their next fix of Warfarin or Methotrexate. . .
Tonight I tried to log in and the site was down. What made it worse was that I then remembered that we are having a special Bank Holiday next week to celebrate the Queen being on the throne for 60 years – the Platinum Jubilee. This will delay stuff like prescriptions.
If she reigns much longer we will end up with a constitutional crisis about which metal comes next. Given good health and top class medical attention she could well make it.
I wonder what it feels like to be Prince Charles? I’m sure he’s very fond of his mother but there must be a little bit of frustration that she won’t retire. Even Popes retire, though Benedict XVI was the first one to do so in 598 years. The Dutch, as with so many things, set a good example in this matter.
The top picture is a Coronation medal from 1953. The rest are various other commemoratives I happen to have photographed. It must be hard being Queen and looking at your ageing effigy on coins and medals. Only the stamps preserve her youthful portrait. Me, I only need to see how old I am when I look in a mirror and as I don’t shave, I don’t often look in a mirror.