Wednesday, 28 September 2011
Thursday, 15 September 2011
My second visit (or it may have been my first - can't remember) was when I broke my collar bone on the beach, just by bumping into someone whilst running to warm up after a last swim. I can remember my poor father having to piggyback me up the slopes (known as the zig zags) from the beach to home and recall sitting in the hospital waiting room for hours before being sealed up in sticky plaster and given a sling. My doctor removed the sticky plaster after the due time and decided the best way to do it was to grab each end and rip it off, causing me to scream and my mother to be horrified by the blood which welled up from my skin! I never liked that doctor - he was a complete sadist!!
My third visit was when I was 12 and was suddenly struck down with appendicitis. I remember my Victoria grandmother was staying and insisted that I eat my Sunday lunch, whereupon I was violently sick. When the doctor came the next day, an ambulance was called, I was carried downstairs on a stretcher and was rushed into hospital. No-one told me what was happening and, in those days, my parents weren't allowed to be with me. I can remember hearing one nurse say to another, 'the operation will be at 11pm' and I assumed it was likely to be my operation! I was on a children's ward and the rules were so strict. You weren't allowed out of bed to wander around, a child with chicken pox was totally isolated in a separate room, family weren't allowed to visit - I could only wave to them from a window or I did manage once to sneak out of the ward doors and wave to them down a corridor. I was in there two weeks and although I probably coped with it well, my parents must have been distraught!
Things have changed so much for the better now, with parents being allowed to visit all the time and, I believe, in some cases being able to stay with their children at the hospital.
On a slightly different tack, I came home today to find a brown envelope on the doormat, containing the following leaflets:
Arthritis may not kill you, but it can take your life.
Are you losing your hair?
End the struggle to lose weight.
Enjoy life again using bladder control formula.
This ties in well with the occasional phone calls I receive where I am called 'dear' and asked if I have a problem getting in/out of the bath, using the stairs, getting out of the armchair when I've finished my crossword etc.
I suppose it's natural to assume that when people are of a certain age, their health begins to deteriorate and I have been very lucky so far, but it is quite depressing to have it rubbed in so much!!
Monday, 1 August 2011
I hate it when people are taken for a ride, particularly those close to me, and end up being hurt.
Some people can only think of themselves, how things affect them and what they want and their attitude to life is all ‘me, me, me’.
The people they hurt are often so happy to be in a relationship that they allow them to creep into their affections and they then get taken advantage of, like being attacked by bloodsuckers.
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
I blame my parents! I cooked some pasta for supper last night and on stirring it in the bowl a few bits flicked on to the work surface, unnoticed at the time. When I came to move the bowl to serve up, I saw these couple of bits of pasta lying forlornly on the work surface. As I picked them up to throw them in the bin, one of them said to me ‘please don’t throw us away, we want to be with our friends’. What could I do, I had to put them back in the bowl!
If I open a tin of sweetcorn or similar, I have to make sure that not a single piece is left in the tin and they are all together in the bowl/saucepan!
I recall that my parents persuaded me to eat things by appealing to my sentimental side – the crusts were the mummy and daddy of the bread and needed to be together – the last few peas on the plate were so lonely without their siblings – you get the picture!
I really can’t remember how old I was before I used to hide the crusts under the edge of the plate …. but some habits have stayed with me all my life.
Friday, 10 June 2011
We chose our phones and preparations were made to set everything up - beginning to get excited about the new gadget! The first phone was set up fine, no problems, old number to be transferred in a couple of days time. Came to the second phone - uh uh says the service provider, we can't set up two phones on the same direct debit! Why not, the salesman asks? Well, the London bombings were financed by mobile phone fraud, says the SP!
There was absolutely no flexibility in this and after two hours of the salesman and his manager arguing with the SP and apologising to us, we decided to set up the second phone on a separate account. Salesman rings through to do this and gets the message "we are now closed"! I have never seen a bloke so in need of a stiff drink as him!
I agreed to return the next morning and eventually, after one false start when the SP thought we were trying to con them, I got my phone!
Charged up the phone and suddenly it rings - don't even know how to answer it and don't recognise the number but do manage eventually to hear an automated message asking me if I wish to answer a few questions on how my purchase went. Yes, I thought, this is the chance! "If you wish to do the survey, either press 1 or say 'yes'" As I couldn't find 1 on the phone I said 'yes'. "Your response is not recognised". Tried twice more in different accents and volume and eventually heard "thank you for your time - goodbye". But, but I haven't spent any time or managed to tell them what I really thought ..... perhaps the same will happen on the second phone in due course and I can try a different accent!
What was it I was going to do? Can't remember, oh yes, good job I wrote it down here - make a cake!!
Friday, 11 March 2011
I am a cat lover, have almost always been owned by a cat and will most certainly allow another cat to choose me when my life is such that I am not away a lot.
There are a large number of cats living on our small estate and I welcome a few of them into the house (separately) most days. To digress slightly, two of them are friends and both hate a third so sometimes it’s a question of one being bundled out the front door as another comes in the back! However I am beginning to wonder if perhaps my welcome was not such a good thing!
The problem is that most of my neighbours, particularly those with cats, have turned their gardens over to either ‘graveyard’ chips, large sharp stones or pieces of slate which means that the cats won’t use them as their “powder rooms!”
Therefore, every time I spend a few sunny hours in the garden, turning the soil over and despatching the weeds, I can see the cats almost queuing up at the gate with their legs crossed!
The next time there is a nice sunny day and I feel the urge to tidy up the garden I have to first prowl around with rubber gloves, a shovel and a bag to get rid of all the deposits left by my friends!
This does seem a bit unfair to me – firstly by my cat owning neighbours who, by chipping/stoning their gardens force their cats to use mine and secondly by the cats themselves who spend a few happy hours relaxing on my mat, being fussed over by me, only to then reward me by using my garden as a loo!