.. but come on, "Bobby lends a paw" was a welcome discovery while failing to find my old short story (from a set of knit-your-own-doll's-house instructions). I even remember the colour ink, the size of the notepad, everything. Can't find it..
No sooner do I triumphantly announce to GP that gut rot is fading away (he said would I humour him & take a month of antacids. You know me. I have no pride & will try anything), than it wakes me up all bloody night. I overslept, yet again. Makes me so grumpy when I finally surface and face the day. Alarm clock from tomorrow.
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[Only for the brave] New dressing gives me far too good a look at the cavernous hole in my chest. And I feel rather exposed and vulnerable. But no choice, my skin couldn't bear another day of sticky dressings. Bathing is a distinctly interesting experience now: even more rapid, bolt upright, followed by quantities of antihistamine cream. Onward we travel.
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Set top digital box died - all its lights glow simultaneously. Am reduced to 5 channels & a DVD player. That I can sit still long enough to watch anything is, nonetheless, a recent triumph. Watched DVD from the Hospice Shop free box last night, Michael Caine and Sigourney Weaver in Half Moon Street. That man will do anything for money. Off up the hill to return DVD whence it came, and to endeavour to do a little more with today.
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