Falling Standards

Mac is away on business in Germany at the moment. This does not bode well for my general standard of living. In the absence of the routine dictated by his working hours, I start to fray at the edges.

Meal times are out; random snacking on leftovers and biscuits is in. Alarm clocks are out; disguising a barely awake morning voice when disturbed by the telephone is in. Personal hygiene is out; pyjamas till midday is in.

It’s just like being a student all over again, but with central heating. And toilet paper. And fewer stolen road traffic signs.

Hello, McFly?

Back to the Future fans may be disappointed to have missed this eBay auction for a ‘TIME MACHINE! For Time Travel?’.

There are some rather interesting philosophical questions raised by potential buyers, including (and I quote):

"Q: im highly interested in the time machine, but im afraid i might become a time travelen junky, similar to a drug addict. i may deside to do some out of the ordinary things, like make it so the owner of the lions isnt Mr. Ford and maybe they might win a few games. but if i do this, wouldnt it change, in essence present day. could you tell me the reprocutions that might be involved with me doing things like that, and if i was to go back in time and reproduce with multiple woman, and they get pregnant, if i return to the present day, would the be alive, but older than me, so would the legally bind me to being there father? please tell me what the rules to time travel are. i think it would be the best if you did for all of us. thanks
A: i did not invent the time machine, i just found it. so i would not know the rules of time travel.

Q: Is it safe to rub my backside on the time machine? what if my backside is REALLY really itchy? can animals use the time machine? what if i use the time machine to go into the past, but i dont own the time machine in the past, so will i be stuck there? am i now 82 years old?
A: yes,yes,no,no,i dont know

Q: Is it safe to have sex with?
A: i would not recommend it

Q: Does it make toast?
A: no"

Champagne Supernova

Friday evening with my brother and his wife* was a fantastically fuzzy episode. Small wonder. In addition to the excessive wine 'sampling', we also made some rather dubious decisions regarding alcohol:

- In the restaurant SJP and I selected marinated olives and Kir Royale as a starter**

- Later in the pub we asked the barman to amaze us with an exciting girly drink of his choice, so he returned with ‘honey vodka’. This smelled and tasted just like whisky. Conclusion: it probably was whisky. What a wise guy. (Unfortunately, this didn't stop us from drinking them.)

- Back at home in the wee small hours, SJP mixed a special cocktail named Tangerine Surprise, the surprise being that it contained a whole tangerine. (Recipe available upon request.)

Consequently, Saturday was a relatively quiet affair.

* Known here as SJP after her idol Sarah Jessica Parker, on account of her Carrie style shoe obsession.

** Note to self: champagne is not a recognised food group.

Spring Has Sprung

Please excuse the low quality photography. This looked so much better in my imagination.

Artistic shortcomings aside, the sun is out, my daffodils are flourishing, and my little brother and his wife are coming to stay for the weekend.

All is well, except that I must now begin the sacred Preparing For Visitors ritual. This includes such gems as:

- cleaning corners of the house which not even the dust mites know about, let alone the visitors;

- washing more clothes than Liz Hurley could get through in an evening, and

- buying enough food and alcohol to sustain a large family of alcoholics through an extended siege.

Right, no more time for blogging. I've got anally retentive matters to attend to.

Oops

I ate a whole Easter egg last night. I was young, I was naïve and I didn’t consider the consequences of what I was doing. I feel some apologies are now due:


Firstly, to the Archbishop of Canterbury for being so premature in my chocolatey celebration of the resurrection.

Secondly, to Gillian McKeith. I’m sorry Gillian, really I am, but a bowl of sprouted mung beans was never even an option while watching Desperate Housewives.

Finally, to Mac, who didn’t get a look in.

I’m off for a run now by way of penance. Forgive me Gillian, for I have sinned.

You're Not Singing Anymore

How the mighty have fallen. Only one puny appointment made today. One appointment’s better then a poke in the eye with a sharp stick though, I suppose. Marginally.

The Milky Bars Are On Me

Let there be rejoicing and merriment! Declare a public holiday and bring forth the suckling pig! Let the dancing begin, for I have had a fantastically productive day!

I made 6 appointments today. To put that in context, my all time personal best is 8 in one day, and last week I managed only 4 in total.

I’ll spare the tedious details of my work, suffice to say that my main source of income currently comes from commission on any sales generated at these appointments.

On top of that, I went running again for the first time in several weeks. Well, I say running… that elicits images of Paula Radcliffe or Kelly Holmes at the peak of physical fitness, which would be wholly inaccurate.

Think more of the London marathon runners at the back dressed up as chickens or teapots, then reduce the distance travelled by tenfold, and remove the cumbersome costume excuse. That’s much more like it.

Still, 6 appointments! Permission to shout "Bravo" at an annoyingly loud volume?

Rumbled!

DAMN! I have been forced to confess the existence of my secret blog to Mac.

For some reason my furtive typing has aroused suspicion, so I have had to come clean, although the location and content of my blog remain classified.

Funny, I don't remember relinquishing all rights to privacy as part of the marriage contract. It must have been hidden in the small print somewhere.

You Are What You Eat

Well, it's certainly been an interesting few days. My husband (hereafter known as Mac, on account of his Scottish roots) has had a cancer scare. This is clearly something that should only happen to other people, so it was a horrible shock to hear the word mentioned in the context of our own lives.

We are very fortunate though, as the suspected lymph cancer seems to have been ruled out so far. The latest theory is that he has some kind of kidney disorder, which may require surgery. The next step is to see a kidney specialist (that's a nephrologist for word-of-the-day fans), who will hopefully make a definite diagnosis.

In the meantime, doctor's orders are to ensure that sure he eats extremely healthily to give his body the best chance of fighting back.

Now, I thought that we were already pretty healthy. I'm vegetarian and I do make an effort to have a good diet, although I'm not obsessive about it. I tend to think that a little chocolate, pizza, alcohol and so on can't do any harm in moderation, and since I've never had any weight problems, there's been no impetus to change.

Never one to do things by halves though, I consulted this book by the formidable Gillian McKeith for some serious advice.

What an eye opener! Whilst I don't think that any sane person could follow this kind of diet to the letter, it has certainly made me think about making some permanent changes in our diets.

This week we've breakfasted on fruit and berry smoothies, snacked on a variety of nuts & seeds (the non roasted and salted kind), and generally chomped our way through plenty of organic vegetables, wholegrain bread, pasta and rice. In just a few days I lost a couple of pounds without even meaning to, so I decided to supplement the regime with some alcohol and chocolate (purely for their anti-oxidant properties, you understand).

Incidentally, the doctor also advised that as a vegetarian I should read up about vitamin B12, as supplements may be required to avoid long term damage to the nervous system. Also, everybody should consider their intake of the mineral selenium, since we are quite likely to be deficient, and this has been linked with an increased risk of cancer. Apparently just one brazil nut a day should sort you out.

Anyway, the health clinic is now closing for the day. Now, where did I put that Creme Egg...

Thank You

What started out as a fairly innocuous visit to the GP yesterday afternoon ended up in a four hour stint at the A&E department of our local hospital.

In a bid to ease my husband’s current position, either by medication or a sick note for work, we went to the doctor together, but unfortunately she was fairly clueless. Very nice, but clueless.

Two hours, several phone calls, and a couple of dog-eared magazines later, she had referred us to the general surgeon on call at the hospital.

What an amazing guy he turned out to be.

After blood and urine tests, x-rays, poking, prodding and in depth questioning, and with theories ranging from kidney stones to TB (yes, TB), we are still no nearer the cause of his illness. We now await appointments for an ultrasound and a haematologist to hopefully shed some light on the situation.

The thing that amazed me was the surgeon's attitude towards us. Surrounded by seemingly awful working conditions, he was bright, enthusiastic and personable. He was clearly competent, to say the least, but he also genuinely cared about our plight.

Amid the fiascos and controversy which often surround the running of the NHS, we shouldn’t forget about some of the incredible people who help us when we need it most. From the depths of my secret blog I'd like to send out a respectful thank you to all of those people.