Monthly Archives: November 2023

Down the NHS Rabbit Hole

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You couldn’t make this stuff up. I had two letters yesterday. They came from Bristol. This is how the NHS now operates. I talk to a doctor, who I could see from my house if it wasn’t for the trees. She refers me to a Urologist, who works about 400 yards from her. I can see the hosp[ital from my back window. Then everything goes to Bristol where they type out the letters and send them. Bristol is 150 miles away. I detect the hand of a management consultant in this. If it’s more efficient I should try it. Next time I wan’t to ask Julia if she would like a cup of tea I will take a detour to Sheffield on my way to the living room. No, still doesn’t make sense . . .

One letter gave me a date for my urology consultation. It is in late January, which is slightly disappointing, but no big deal. Time passes so fast these days it will soon be here. A three month wait for a consultation is a First World Problem really. There are plenty of people in the world who would love to be me. Late January, down to the hospital I can see from my window, no problem.

The second gave me a date for my urology consultation. It is in late January, It’s the same day and time as my other appointment. There is just one difference. They tell me that it is a telephone appointment and that I should not go to hospital.

Hospital curtains – slightly more cheerful than the previous set

I’m tempted to go down, hand in the first letter and then see if they ring me while I am in the waiting room.

However, I rang the central appointment line for Nottingham University Hospitals. They told me to key in my seven figure patient number from the letter. Three digits in they told me they didn’t recognise the number and that I should wait for an advisor.

So I waited. And waited, and the tinny music assailed my ears and the insincere message of apology got on my nerves. Eventually, probably 20 minutes later, having lost the will to live, I got through. I’d only started in queue position number three so I suspect the team of advisors I was linked to consisted of one harassed women.

After I explained the problem she hummed and hahed and muttered and eventually, using a very unconvincing voice, told me it was a phone appointment.

My final room in the three month saga

I’m going to have to write and check, having been here (metaphorically) before. I was going to add links but blog posts don’t really tell the whole story. Basically, fro those of you who don’t know, I went to hospital for a procedure. IT was supposed to be followed by another one just two weeks later. It took 3 months and descended into farce. The NHS accused me of lying several times because I had nothing in writing to prove what I said, though I did have witnesses. They never did explain what happened. They never did apologise (though individual staff members did).

That’s why I am going to waste time writing, because if it happens again I want to be prepared.

Starvation – an ever present danger in hospital. Five chips! Five!

I Spoke Too Soon

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Do you remember yesterday and me saying “Meanwhile, I have a sore spot on the arm which had the flu vaccine and no reaction on the shingles arm. Sometimes I really am disappointed in the lack of drama that attends all this vaccination.” ?

Well you can cancel that. About two hours after I wrote it the shingles arm started to ache. It still does. So does my shoulder. It’s rather annoying, particularly as I thought I’d got away with it. Such, as they say, is life. And in two months I can do it all again.

By then I will have forgotten all about the reaction. I’ve just been reding random posts that WP keeps suggesting for me, and I find that I did have a rection to one of my Covid boosters. I’d forgotten all about it and honestly didn’t think I’d had a reaction anyone.

Julia has gone to Norwich for a few days to see Number One Son. She has primed me for all eventualities and seems to have forgotten that I lived on my own for 12 years before I got married. I married her because I fell in love at first sight, not because I needed someone to organise my life.

In fact there is a distressing tendency for my life to become less organised when she gets involved. I’m a dull plodder who believes in minimal effort and the benefits of repetition. Take tonight, I’m going to have fish fingers, potato wedges and mushy peas.

Tomorrow, as I will still have half a pack of fish fingers left, I will be having fish fingers, potato wedges and mushy peas. It’s simple, it’s delicious and it’s cheap. And it allows me to cut and paste. However, Julia would never allow me to eat the same thing twice. She wants different food each day. I’ve never understood why.

I will end this by saying that although I am missing her, I’m also looking forwards to a couple of nights of running my life like I want – repetitive nursey food, reduced personal hygiene (I really don’t see why I need a clean shirt every day, for instance), and watching Decline and Fall (she wasn’t keen).

L-R: No 2 Son, Julia, Number 1 Son. You could probably have worked that out if I’d just have pointed out Number 2 Son. By deduction the other one must be Number 1 and the midget in the middle must be Julia.

Insurance, Injections and Irises

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Arkwright the Tortoise

Part Two of Today’s Posts. Part One is here.

I know car insurance has been going up because it’s been in the news a lot. I suspect it’s been in the news a lot because insurance companies have been drip-feeding us information to make us get used to the idea of a big price rise.

I’ve even had a note from my company to tell me the price rises are for reasons like the cost of complicated repairs, the cost of mechanic’s wages and various other factors that I translated to “blah blah, blah”. That’s even before you look at things like the greed and mendacity of insurance companies.

It’s gone up by about 40%.  Just at the moment, I can’t be bothered to get a new quote so, despite a good driving record and lack of claims I will just brace myself and take what the insurance company dishes out. It’s still, actually less than I was paying when I started to shop around five years ago. At that time my insurance company (Churchill) was treating me like a prize specimen that they had fattened up for the slaughter. I went with Swinton, who used to cover my business and household insurance and they cut the price considerably.  After the first year they  presented me with a massive price hike so I left and went to another company. As I say, they are still charging less than Churchill.

Yellow Flag

And that is another insight for the mythical student doing his/her future PhD on the lives of unfamous 21st Century poets.

I’ve had a text from the surgery asking for feedback on my visit today. I’ve also had several texts this week telling me to book in for this and that test. What with my normal blood tests, my quarterly blood tests,  three vaccinations, my regular rheumatology appointments, the X-Ray and the Urology referral, I really don’t have time to go to work. Unfortunately, despite regular stories in the press about high levels of benefit and the ease of benefit fraud, I don’t seem to be able to access all this cash and am actually better off working. This is, of course, supposed to be the case, as the benefit system is supposed to prevent starvation rather than provide an alternative to work. Next year, when I draw my pension, I will have plenty of time and will be able to devote myself to being a full time patient.

Meanwhile, I have a sore spot on the arm which had the flu vaccine and no reaction on the shingles arm. Sometimes I really am disappointed in the lack of drama that attends all this vaccination. I will be having a booster in two months, we will have to see what happens then.

Damsel Fly – Wilford

Photos are from May 2020 – our lockdown holiday, and include Arkwright the rambling tortoise. Julia saw him last summer but he is now presumably in a box, dreaming of next summer. It’s an interesting way of ensuring eternal sunlight – I may give it a try when I retire.

Trouble at the Surgery

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I went fro my shingles vaccination today, The automatic board for booking in wasn’t working and the man in front of me was arguing with the receptionist in broken English. This isn’t a criticism, his command of the language was far better than anything I could  manage in another language. However, it did prolong the discussion. He was trying to book an appointment for a female family member who didn’t speak English and the receptionist was booking a translator. He said he was able to translate, and I’m sure he was. Unfortunately nobody would be able to tell what he was saying and it seems there is a growing problem with doctors saying one thing and family members translating it to suit their requirements.  That’s why the practice now books impartial translators as a matter of course. I presume it isn’t cheap, but it is necessary. So that’s another rabbit hole for the NHS budget.

Meanwhile, I was called through for my shingles vaccination. Then I ws told I probably didn’t qualify. It seems the TV advert is not 100% accurate and there are plenty of people in the age group who don’t actually qualify. When they say “immuno-supressed” on the advert, they are talking about people on chemotherapy and with HIV, that sort of level.

She broke the news gently that she didn’t think I would qualify and we went through all the parameters. It ws a no. Then I pointed out that I’m counted as immuno-suppressed for some purposes because of the methotrexate and she looked that up for me. If you take up 8 tablets a week you don’t qualify for vaccination. If you take ten, you do. Bingo! Because I take 10, I can be vaccinated. This, the nurse tells me, is a Good Thing. Two tint tablets, which are almost too small to grasp, are the difference.

It’s a mixed blessing, because it tells me I am ill enough to cross a threshold . . .

But I got my vaccine, so I’m happy with that. It took two minutes for vaccinations and 20 minutes to do the checking. I will let others ponder the efficiency of  the system, as Julia has just made tea and toast (with marmalade) and I feel this post needs to end.

Selfie in a teapot

An Evening with the Intelligentsia

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Derby Peace Medal – reverse

Second Post of the day. This is the first.

I’ve just been watching quizzes on TV. After a hectic night with frequent waterwork-induced wakefulness I have been tired. This showed when I slept through most of Mastermind and all of Only Connect. I did manage to stay awake for a gripping edition of University Challenge where, yet again, many of the questions could have been in a foreign language. Meanwhile, several of the contestants, who don’t speak English as a first language, managed to decypher the questions, understand and answer. They were frighteningly intelligent, and I can only speculate how quickly they would have been able to answer if playing in their first language. However, I did manage to answer several questions which they couldn’t so I don’t feel too bad.

Emily Dickinson and Australia (in relation to reptiles) were two of them. There were a couple of others, but I couldn’t even understand the chemistry and physics questions and hadn’t a clue about the Periodic Table.

Sheffield Peace Medal – obverse

I once asked a leading academic what the soldiers of the English Civil War used to open their tinned food as there were no known 17th Century tin openers. He pondered, he muttered and  he eventually suggested that, as bayonets were not yet invented, they must, on the balance of probability, have used their daggers.

Sheffield Peace Medal – reverse

It was an interesting answer, which may have been made less complicated if only he’d been able to remember that tinned food wasn’t invented until 1811 he would have saved himself a lot of mental effort. He knew this, because he was a scholar of the Napoleonic Wars, and canned food came from Napoleon’s offer of a prize to develop a method of providing preserved food for armies. Unfortunately, his academic training made him zoom in on the fine detail, and provided me with a great deal of amusement. He’s brilliant but not always practical.

Ooops! I just looked up can openers and found out I have been wrong about canned food all my life, It was first used by the Dutch in 1772. The first can opener was patented in 1855. Until then they had used a variety of methods including keys similar to modern corned beef cans and hammers and chisels. I bet soldiers did use bayonets too,  Though they were theoretically available during the English Civil War they weren’t issued to British Soldiers until 1672. having said that, as the early bayonets were just daggers stuck in the end of a musket barrel it’s very hard to say when the army started using them as any man with a gun and a dagger could hve “invented” the bayonet.

Birmingham Peace Medal – reverse

Birmingham Peace Medal – obverse

I used the peace medal photographs because I was looking t them earlier this evening and because I mentioned military things earlier in the post. It’s very tangential, but it’s the best I can do.

A Challenging Day

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Scottish Piper on stamp

I just got back from work and replied to comments. For some reason, every “i” on my screen was highlighted in yellow. I must have discovered WP’s secret “turn letters yellow” button. It doesn’t seem to be a very useful feature.

It’s not as irritating as the “Someone” button or the “wipe out all my text” feature that I seems to access from time to time, but that’s the best I can say for it. I can’t immediately think of a use for it, but that doesn’t matter, because even if I did, I have no idea how to make it happen.

At work we had another call from the firm trying to sell us new loft insulation. They were trying before I was ill, continued regularly while I was away, and they tried again today.  I explained yet again that we are a shop and that we don’t have a loft but I expect they will try again later in the week.

Mallard stamp

In the afternoon we had a visit from a man needing a medal replacing.

“I suppose,” I said, “that you’ll be wanting it to wear on Sunday.”

“Yes.” he said, my sarcasm passing completely over his head.

The week before Remembrance Day can be very trying.

As for the rest of it, everything went fine.

When I got home Julia had found a sheet of stamps I have been looking for. It’s a pack of First Class Stamps of the discontinued type. I knew they were around somewhere and have been looking as I need to send them off and get them replaced with the new type. She truly is a treasure. And she had also bought me a bar of fruit and nut chocolate for being brave and going back to work.

Stamps, stamps, stamps…

Day of Little Progress

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The title doesn’t really narrow it down as most days are like that. I made breakfast cobs (bacon and tomato and bacon and black pudding for those of you interested in the opposite of fine dining), done a bit on WP and watched TV. I had to go for Prime in the end, as terrestrial TV is dire. It’s either garbage or repeats or football and Songs of Praise. I didn’t mind Sogs of Praise when it was in the evening, but it seems wrong when it’s on in the afternoon.

The film I watched was Renegades. It’s not a great film, but it’s a decent effort and has a great cast. The script is quite sharp and there is sufficient action, though if I’d been directing it I’d have put in more gunfire and explosions.

I then moved on to Decline and Fall. I like the book, though I probably haven’t read it for 20 years. I like the series too, though it’s a touch long-winded. I keep meaning to re-read Waugh, so this might actually get me doing it. First I need to get through my current book. It’s about the rise and fall of Rome, but I’m only just moving on to the Republic, so I have a long way to go yet.

I just looked up Waugh’s books on Kindle. I will probably join a library. I’m not paying £5.99 for a book that doesn’t physically exist and which, as I understand it, I don’t actually own.  I don’t mind paying decent money for reference books and newly written books (authors need some sort of encouragement) but I don’t see why Waugh’s literary estate needs to milk it quite so much.

After that I made soup. Red Pepper, Bean and Tomato soup. It will be good for lunch for the next week. I may take a photo this time.

Things to do when I retire –

  1. Join Library.
  2. ?

  3. Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Return to the Shop

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I’m going back to work on Monday. It’s a nuisance because Julia has some time off over the next two weeks and I would like to have been off with her. However, I’m better and I don’t like letting them down at work.

The last two weeks has revealed to me just how much I want to retire (the money is now the only thing that keeps me at work, other factors have taken away my enthusiasm). However, I still have twelve months to go before my planned date and though it will fly by, it seems like a long time as I look at it now.

It’s sad that it has come to this, but I suppose that’s how life is. You make plans, you change them, you make more . . .

More pressing than my motivation is the need to clear the house within the next twelve months and organise the move. I really need to get on with that. I am going to have to teach myself to throw things away. It seems easy enough but after years of being a dealer I always feel like I should be getting paid for stuff. If I throw it away I feel guilty about not recycling. If I give it to a charity shop I feel bad about not getting paid. I know this is bad, but that’s the result of years of conditioning.

Meanwhile, I still have to do something for the Numismatic Society meeting, and have eleven days to do it. It always seems to get to this stage before I actually do anything, so I’m now blaming my lack of application rather than my infection.

The paper flag below is, as you can see, of Scottish origin. This is appropriate because the Scots were the originators of paper flags and were enthusiastic sellers of them. When I have done my research I will let you know more.

1917 – Soldier and Sailor

1917 – reverse

Failure, Another Perspective

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I had my copy of Ribbons today – the magazine of the Tanka Society of America. I jhave three poems in it, so I am happy. Slightly less happy that it will be reducing to two magazines a year instead of three, but if it relieves some of the workload on the committee you can’t really argue with it. I know from previous volunteering how hard and thankless it can be. The loss of one hance a year to publish is a small price to pay for the continued smooth running of the society.

I’ve been watching a documentary on TV – David Harewood’s F Word – and it was quite interesting. He interviewed some successful actors (including Brian Cox, Olivia Colman and Damian Lewis) and it seems that they are all just as susceptible to worries about success and failure as I am. Admittedly, we operate t different levels and I’m way behind in terms of wealth and global recognition, but we all seem to think pretty much the same.

Brian Cox, for instance, says a bad review is just the opinion of one person, who might be having a bad day, while Olivia Colman told of her experiences after winning awards and still finding herself out of work. Having said that, I expect that being an out of work Oscar winner is probably still better than being an unemployed non-Oscar winner.

Most actors who have any moderate fame seem to fill their time quite nicely with writing books for children. It seems all the rage at the moment. This is an interesting article on the subject. I’m not sure how I feel about some of the comments, particularly the ones about being careful bout what children read at an early age. One of mine was a poor reader until he started reading Pokemon cards to his younger brother and then moved on to sports journalism. By the time he wrote his first essay at University he was miles away from having a good academic style but he quickly learned. The other one just read graphic novels, or comic books as I always think of them. A local librarian told me to be grateful that he ws reading anything voluntarily.

The problem, as mentioned in the article, is that there is a touch of snobbery about what kids read, just as there used to be when libraries removed Enid Blyton books. Personally, I read a lot of classics in Dean & Sons junior editions. I still remember ploughing through Jane Eyre and similar stuff when I was far too young. having been taught to read by the time I was five I was skilful enough to read a lot of novels that I was far too young to appreciate. It was only when I moved on to Biggles and William and Enid Blyton that I actually liked reading and I haven’t stopped since., though I have rarely gone back to fine literature after my early experiences.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Back to Life

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I’ve had a leisurely start to the day, to say the least. It started with a cooked breakfast because I wanted to make sure Julia had something decent before she left for work. The weather is not bad here but there’s a chill in the air and the threat of patchy rain to add to the overnight soaking. As I write, Derrick and Jackie Knight are still under an amber weather warning as Storm Ciaran rips along the south coast. Normally I envy them living n the New Forest, but when the weather is intent on breaking branches and toppling trees I find myself less keen on it. I know there are lots of bits without trees (forest in England refers as much to an area of land enclosed for Royal hunting as it does to a place with trees.

Robin Hood lurking in the Forest

Sherwood Forest and the New Forest, very different places these days, were once mixed areas of heath, farmland and woodland set aside for Royal hunting and under the Forest Law rather than the normal law of the land. To a certain extent, the New Forest still is. If you let your horses and pigs wander free round here people would soon protest. And the pigs would soon be in freezers.

After breakfast I went back to bed to continue my recovery before rising for a second time to do a few odd jobs. The phone is currently squeaking at me to remind me that I have a phone call to make. There is always something to do. For the last ten days this “something” has mainly been sleeping and whining, but now it’s time to return to real life.

Acorn Sculpture – Sherwood Forest