Treacleman

 

I haven’t done anything about ‘Patient Experience’ not replying to my answerphone message asking for an appointment, which I left two weeks ago on Friday.

I missed entries on this Blog – Wednesday and Thursday. That’s a first. So much for not stopping, so much for ‘Bring it on’. Manic March was more manic than I imagined. I’ve always said when life was good, so, in a spirit of honesty; this week is more like dogs vomit.

Last weekend I hit a wall of side effects. Walking through treacle.

Monday, feeling rough and up at Charing Cross Hospital. In passing away the time I realised that my MOT was running out.

Tuesday, found a garage, unexpectedly got my toytown car serviced and sorted straight away but it took all day and meant I couldn’t do the things I should have done on Wednesday because I hadn’t done the Tuesday things.

Wednesday, my anti-virus had expired (that’s virtual anti-virus, rather than ‘In Real Life’) – so off the net, no blogging, otherwise some eleven year old in Tashkent with time on his hands will wack my laptop with a new virus, built just for me. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against Tashkent or eleven year olds with time on their hands. Been there. Well, not to Tashkent.

AM stagger into town, found that in a year the price of Norton had almost doubled!? Now that Comet has gone bust, PC World has a monopoly so up went the prices, then all the other shops put their prices up by exactly the same amount or didn’t have it at all. Hmmm.

Managed to find something else, more affordable, after walking far too far to find it.

Home, coffee, cook, wash up, PM back up to Charing Cross. Drive, walk, tube, walk, hospital, walk, tube, drive, cook, wash up, do the washing, put out weelie bins, collapse. While getting zapped I found that I was coming back every day for the rest of the week.

Couldn’t install the antivirus as I don’t have broadband (long and boring story) and my dongle has virtually used up its allowance this month and I’ve got 17 days to go. So, no downloading, so no anti virus. I’m going to have to abuse my favourite café’s patience (Café Nero, Egham, respect due) and wi-fi and I don’t have time to do it, so no net noodling and no blogging either. Grrrrh.

Thursday, up early, get breakfast sorted (I have someone I have to care for), bring back weelie bins, off to Tesco’s for the weeks shop. Drive, walk, choose, select, load, unload, pay, load, walk, unload, drive, walk, unload, carry, sort, cook, wash up, collapse, walk to post office to pay bills, make tea, collapse again, drive, walk, tube, walk, Charing Cross hospital, walk, tube, walk, drive, wash up, collapse.

I’m wasted and it’s only Thursday.

Treacleman.

Tuesday I was using a boxing analogy – the rope-a-dope. When Mohammed Ali had lost his speed and style, he hung on the ropes soaking up the punishment, soaking up the blows until his opponent tired, then he came back and won. Seemed right for how I felt at the time. But now……

Ali; float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

Harris; float like a bee, sting like a butterfly.

Actually, I’m not even doing too much floating at the moment; D.V.

Do you think I'm going to let them off the hook?

Do you imagine I've lost my style?

Tomorrow is Friday, always liked them.

Neil Harris

(a don’t stop till you drop production)

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