Told the surgery I find their handling of my current situation unacceptable and will be pursuing the matter in writing.
Ordered a long shoe horn.
Had spare ribs for tea. They were left over from Monday. Under our new responsible eating system we are trying to eat less. That may be all I have, as I did share a pork pie with Julia when she came home. I didn’t need it, but I couldn’t resist.
She also brought me a bar of chocolate. Green & Blacks Almond Milk Chocolate. It’s hard to tell whether she loves me or is trying to feed me to death. Hopefully the former. If she was trying to kill me she could have got more sugar for her money buying Cadbury’s.
That’s it really. I have done a little writing but haven’t been able to finish any submissions. Have also read a little, but only a little. Watched TV. I’m not sure this is helping me sharpen up mentally.
This is the first time in eleven days that I have felt there was light at the end of the tunnel, a feeling almost immediately squashed by the actions/inactions of the surgery.
Then there was in inaction of my bowels . . .
Normal bowel function has been restored after the Day of Inaction, as I have decided to refer to it. I did desperately need sleep and freedom from pain, but must remember that codeine and constipation are a constant danger. It’s bad enough being in pain without feeling that you are wrestling with your digestion. To give you some idea of my feelings, whilst maintaining decorum, I will merely mention that I am thinking about pine cones now. Large uncooperative pine cones.
That’s probably a good place to stop. My main regret about the day? Not having time to write a post where I could fit in the word costive. I may try that next week, as it currently describes me on a number of levels.
The day started badly, with news of the Manchester bombing. I mention it because it seems to be something that should be mentioned, though I have nothing useful to say on the subject.
I think I’ve reflected on this before, and the way we select what goes into our posts. Nobody is going to be reprinting my blog in 100 years and treating it as a valuable social history resource because it’s lightweight fluff and random jottings. However, if I was sitting at a desk with a pen and a book, and a lack of immediate audience, I might be tempted to become serious, or even pompous.
An earlier draft of this post was much more serious, and tried to be meaningful, even profound. However, I soon put a stop to that.
I’m currently watching Secrets of our Favourite Snacks with Simon Rimmer. i’m feeling quite virtuous as I watch, because I’ve pretty much given up crisps and other salty snacks. Apart from nuts, but they are too expensive to go mad on, and are full of nutrients. (That’s a personal view and I would probably struggle to find scientific proof for it. If you follow my nutritional advice don’t bother to ring me from the cardiac ward and complain it’s worked out badly for you.)
I’ve learned three useful things so far – the bigger the container the more you eat, if you are distracted you eat more and there’s a man who writes a crisp blog. Even by my standards that’s a lightweight blog. (The link might not be to the crisp blog mentioned in the programme but it’s the only one I could find.
They then went to Manchester as people in North-west eat the most salty snacks of anyone in the UK. Seems Manchester is fated to be in the news today.
Julia is out tonight. It was something she organised a month ago and I made her go even though she’s worried about leaving me alone.
Her worries are that I may fall over or starve to death. Starve? That set alarm bells ringing. How long is she planning on being away? Only for the evening, it seems. I can’t see that being a problem as I have enough stored fat to last a while. Look at the self-portrait if you don’t believe me. I have what estate agents refer to as an “extensive frontage”.
As for falling over, I have a mobility aid (or stick, as they used to be known) and enough padding not to damage too easily.
However, this isn’t to say that she has nothing to worry about. I may be safe, but it’s not the same as being sensible. Armed with several litres of what Bob Flowerdew calls personal liquid waste I have made a start on reclaiming the garden. We’ve been having trouble with dogs fouling a spot in the corner of the front garden and I’ve decided to fight back. We had an urban fox problem at one time, and did successfully move them on using urine (applied via watering can, in case you are wondering). Direct application isn’t really an option for a front garden in a suburban street.
I’m thinking of this as a kind way of moving them on. Stage 2, if this doesn’t work, is to use a solution of chillis. If I have to escalate to stage 3 I may have to abandon organic solutions and opt for Jeyes Fluid.
I will say no more, as I don’t want this to be used in evidence against me.
While she was out I went shopping for tea, which was Heinz Tomato Soup with a cheese and spiced shallot sandwich. It’s not the last word in healthy eating, but Heinz Tomato Soup is almost a medicine so I think I’m OK, particularly as I had an orange, a banana and a chocolate rabbit afterwards. The rabbit was half price – so it’s a vegetable and it’s a bargain.