Dear NB, thank you so much for moral support and yogic discourse today. Download these recipe pages (Aroona Reejhsinghani, my catering guru), and enjoy. I recommend Hyderabad Seviyan (closest to our dessert at Rasa Express today - £3.50 for lunch, recommended, 327 Euston Rd, right on top of Warren St tube, complete with yoga studio for staff only in basement), and Mangalore Dal Payasam. They take time to boil down, but they are just lovely. JS, you could get Mr T to try them, too. I know you'd love them.
Where were we? Right. South African frequently tactless Nursey was surprisingly sympathetic, and did a very thorough job of examining and dressing my miserable wound. It's decided to react to its usual dressing now. Can you see my fine footwear on the patient's couch?
One thoroughly frustrating ultrasound: Mr D says nothing to be seen in my gall bladder. And as CT, MRI, X-ray all drew a blank, best to get myself referred to a gastro-enterologist to explore my large bowel. Because it hurts. Not that he thinks there's anything wrong with it, but get it checked all the same. Appointment should arise within a fortnight. How to stay calm for a fortnight and not dream up sinister bowel-related problems? Keep taking the drugs, says Mr D, consultant wise man. Had had a generous dose before seeing him, as it happens, and gleefully rounded off by wishing him well over the holidays and looked forward to seeing him for March's six monthly routine mammogram, "No, I'll see you in two weeks to check your breast". Drat. Momentarily forgot about that.
What are the Venezuelans up to exactly?
And how come I've lived here for 17 years and only just noticed this plaque on my tube platform? And why would anyone bomb this obscure corner of North London?
Came home to a hot kettle and abandoned football; MP and Little B had only just left. Need to rest, not just run around distracting myself. Wonder which I'll manage.. Shed man cometh tomorrow, and a haircut. Good.
Dear NB, thank you so much for moral support and yogic discourse today. Download these recipe pages (Aroona Reejhsinghani, my catering guru), and enjoy. I recommend Hyderabad Seviyan (closest to our dessert at Rasa Express today - £3.50 for lunch, recommended, 327 Euston Rd, right on top of Warren St tube, complete with yoga studio for staff only in basement), and Mangalore Dal Payasam. They take time to boil down, but they are just lovely. JS, you could get Mr T to try them, too. I know you'd love them.
Where were we? Right. South African frequently tactless Nursey was surprisingly sympathetic, and did a very thorough job of examining and dressing my miserable wound. It's decided to react to its usual dressing now. Can you see my fine footwear on the patient's couch?
One thoroughly frustrating ultrasound: Mr D says nothing to be seen in my gall bladder. And as CT, MRI, X-ray all drew a blank, best to get myself referred to a gastro-enterologist to explore my large bowel. Because it hurts. Not that he thinks there's anything wrong with it, but get it checked all the same. Appointment should arise within a fortnight. How to stay calm for a fortnight and not dream up sinister bowel-related problems? Keep taking the drugs, says Mr D, consultant wise man. Had had a generous dose before seeing him, as it happens, and gleefully rounded off by wishing him well over the holidays and looked forward to seeing him for March's six monthly routine mammogram, "No, I'll see you in two weeks to check your breast". Drat. Momentarily forgot about that.
What are the Venezuelans up to exactly?
And how come I've lived here for 17 years and only just noticed this plaque on my tube platform? And why would anyone bomb this obscure corner of North London?
Came home to a hot kettle and abandoned football; MP and Little B had only just left. Need to rest, not just run around distracting myself. Wonder which I'll manage.. Shed man cometh tomorrow, and a haircut. Good.
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