Is it me?

I was upstairs when B shouted me.

B:  ‘Can you come here for a minute?’

Me:  ‘I’ve got no pants on.  I was going to have a shower.’ – Look, I still say shower since it does involve the shower but it is more of a hose down at present

B:  ‘Well can you put some on and come down.’

Thinking he wanted to show me something outside that would disappear unless I saw it at that exact moment and trusting it didn’t involve a neighbour standing in the kitchen I wandered downstairs without my trousers on – I had my knickers on and my cardigan was quite long.

I arrived in the kitchen to find B with a stern expression on his face and his arms folded across his chest.

B:  ‘Look at this.  I opened the box and the first three were like this…’

B:  ‘I haven’t got the receipt but it says Wilko on the box.  They were only £1.59 (ish) but I feel like taking them back.  They open on Sundays.’

Now I think he both expected and wanted me to say ‘It’s not really worth the hassle is it’ but considering I’d had to come downstairs and was standing trouser-less, but socked,  in the kitchen I said

‘Yes, but its the principle.  I think you should take them back.’

Cast your mind back to last June

What were you doing?  We were fortunate enough to go to Lorna and Mike’s wedding.  I had blood poisoning at the time and had gone into hospital on the Friday as the wedding was on the following Tuesday but was given day release to attend – as detailed here and here – but very, very briefly I hadn’t been up to making the dress I intended to wear and being in the Royal couldn’t go and get my back up dress.  As it turned out my eldest nephew went to buy it for me and they didn’t have it in my size so I trusted his judgement as to another black and white dress and this is what I ended up with…

A very nice choice I think we all agreed and at the time I mentioned this was no less remarkably in light of, not said nephew’s age of 19, but his choice of fancy dress (well I think it was fancy dress) for a party at Uni shortly after.  I somehow didn’t get round to posting the pic – well here it is now…

What’s worrying is the only thing he had to buy was the… vest!

The Fire

It wasn’t a big fire, it wasn’t even a dramatic fire – well I guess depending on your definition of dramatic (B may dispute this but the couple when I lived at home involving a tea towel above the grill catching light and a pan with a bit of oil in were more dramatic as far as I’m concerned) but it was definitely a fire.

Last Saturday, even though I was a tad tired, I rashly said to B that if he liked I’d make pancakes for breakfast on Sunday.  Needless to say he was quite enthusiastic and pointed out that it had been quite a while since I’d made them.  To be honest since Christmas B has done the vast majority of the cooking and has got very good at doing steaks – beef or lamb.  I just take over as head chef if it involves anything that couldn’t be defined as a steak – apart from frozen scampi.

So Sunday I made pancakes.  Now I can’t say that I started this task with tons of enthusiasm and I also can’t say that the meal we had them for was breakfast although it was our first meal of the day.  I only entered the kitchen, in my jim jams straight from bed well maybe not straight I’d probably used the bathroom first, at 12.03!  I know, what a slob!  It is the longest lie in I’ve had in years and years.

So before I could change my mind I set to and mixed the pancake batter in a half asleep manner but let’s face it it’s not sending a rocket to the moon – or curing myeloma so although I couldn’t remember the exact quantity I usually make (was it one and a half cups of flour or two) it’s not like anyone’s life depended on it.

I’d shouted upstairs to see if B wanted a milky coffee and when he said he did I’d popped the milk in the pan and set it on the gas hob while the pancake pan was warming up.  I invested, not much, in an actual pancake pan.  It’s very flat with a tiny lip round the edge and means that even the first pancake is perfect but the surface is now a bit iffy so I give it a light coating of light olive oil.  In my half asleep state I’d been a bit exuberant with the oil so there was quite a bit heating up.  B then arrived in the kitchen and pointed out that the milk for his coffee wasn’t on.  Now I don’t deal well with mither within two hours of waking up at the best of times and I was really groggy so I believe I may have muttered something about it usually being ready with his pancakes while noticing that the oil on the pancake pan was borderline smoking.  Now I could have removed the pan from the flame but that would have been too easy obviously and would have slowed the process down – even though I knew I wasn’t going to break any records that day.  On a good day I can go from eggs, flour and milk to sitting down to pancakes, milky coffee and orange juice in twenty minutes.  What?  Doesn’t everyone time themselves doing stuff?  Huh?  I think it may have to do with B always asking how long stuff takes to make and getting a bit antsy if I say half an hour and it turns out to take three.  That said, when we did a weekly shop I used to time myself putting it away (three minutes) oh, and when I changed the bed sheets/duvet cover (five minutes).

Right, I think that’s all I timed.  The first because putting the groceries away was really boring and the second to make a point after the m-i-l had told me I was ‘a cheeky bugger’.  I know I was shocked too I mean it’s not like I asked for it…

m-i-l:  ‘We’ve been really busy today.’  It was a number of years ago and my father in law was still alive plus I was still capable of changing the bed without my back kicking off – B does it now and no, I’ve never timed him.

me:  ‘Have you.’  No, I don’t need a question mark as I wasn’t really asking at this point.

m-i-l:  ‘Oh yes!’

Now I wouldn’t have usually asked but since she was always saying she was busy and considering my Auntie En is a year older and at the time looked after her husband, cooked a homemade tea every night (as opposed to anything out of a tin) and made up lunch for one of her sons who’d moved back home along with knitting, sewing, crocheting blankets for charity and going to tailoring or upholstery classes at the local college I did sometimes wonder what the m-i-l’s definition of busy was and curiosity got the better of me on this occasion.

me:  ‘What did you do?’

m-i-l:  ‘We stripped the bed and put the sheets in the wash, then put them on the line and then when they were dry re-made the bed.’

me:  ‘So that took you ten minutes.  What did you do after that?’

m-i-l:  ‘You cheeky bugger.’

Where was I?  Oh yes – the fire.  So the pan was smoking and I couldn’t be bothered to do the sensible thing and take it off the flame… I plucked a few pieces of paper kitchen towel out of the cupboard and whipped them swiftly over the pan to remove the excess so that I could pop some batter on the pan but where should I put the now oily towels.  Oh yes, it’s all too easy to say from the other side of your computer screens that the bin may have been a good idea but B was in the way and I needed to get batter on the pan ASAP.  I couldn’t put them on the worktop as I believe I may have mentioned they were oily and that would have involved more cleaning up so it made perfect sense, at the time not so much now I have to admit, to pop them on the gas burner behind the one with the pancake pan and next to the one with the milk pan.  I then proceeded to switch on the flame under the milk pan – except, as you may have guessed, I switched on the one under the oily paper towels by mistake.

Now I think I may have mentioned in the past that I’m your gal for an emergency but B isn’t your guy.  However on this particular occasion he did in fact deal with it exceptionally well, which was good as I was even calmer than usual – to the point of it possibly looking like catatonic inaction.  I watched as the paper towel burst (which I think describes it pretty accurately) into flames and worked itself up into a quite a flame, at least twelve inches high even after I’d switched off that burner.   I could feel B hovering behind me waiting for me to do something but hey, I figured this was the reason that extractor hoods and wall cupboards have to be a certain distance from hobs.  So although I did think that it was probably quite rational to try and put out the flames since it seemed highly unlikely they would set fire to or even singe anything else surely the easiest thing all round was just to let them burn themselves out.  B however didn’t feel the same and started muttering things about damp tea towels so I figured ‘What the heck it might make him feel better’ and let him run one under the tap.  Now I did notice that the towel ended up more ‘wet’ than ‘damp’ and so took over and extinguished the flames.

All we lost was one pancake and not even as a direct result.  B suggested it might be a good idea to remove the tea towel from the hob, because he’s practical like that, and as I lifted it up a little piece of incinerated paper towel fluttered down onto the uncooked side of the pancake.  I believe the look I gave B implying that this loss was his fault was a step too far.  He didn’t say as much I just guessed from the way he snatched open the kitchen door and stormed off with the soggy singed tea towel into the garage.

I gave him a hug when he came back in because it must have been a bit of a shock – after all it was his first kitchen fire and my third.

 An lookie ‘ere, I finished the little aran cardy, hat and mittens…

B punished me for being bad

He made me watch The Jeremy Kyle show while we ate our lunch!  How barbaric is that?  For those of you not familiar with this high brow presentation it’s kinda like a low brow version of Jerry Springer.  Seriously the people that appear on the show are so, um well, rough is probably the politest way of putting it.  And what makes it worse is that this applies to ALL the guests, not just the ones who are having their baby DNA matched to the 10th possible father but everyone.  There was a show a few weeks back that was about a health issue and the parents looked as though they’d just been asking people for change outside the studio.  I could only think wardrobe was responsible for their clothes as it seemed bizarre that they should look so unkempt too.  Well either that or there is a dress policy on the application form.

Anyhoo what had I done to deserve this punishment.  It’s all the blood’s fault.  I had been feeling pretty good anyway from Tuesday but after the two units of blood yesterday I felt particularly good today.  This resulted in me doing something rash whilst B and Bud were out walking.  In the midst of getting some paper out of the loft to wrap B’s birthday presents I thought ‘I wonder if I could put the boxes of Christmas decorations away myself’, as B has been threatening to do it since well, Christmas actually.

It turned out I could, with a bit of a struggle I admit.  Now I knew B wasn’t going to be happy but I thought it would take him a while to notice they were gone since most were under my sewing table but I was only finishing putting the last box up there when the two Bs got back.  So when we sat down for our watercress sandwiches shortly after I got subjected to Jeremy Kyle and as if that wasn’t bad enough B turned over before we found out if the baby was fathered by the guy who had been on the show once before to tell his then girlfriend that he had a baby with his ex-girlfriend, yes the same baby that his ex-girlfriend was now saying had a 50/50 chance of being his.

Needless to say I won’t be doing it again this year, I couldn’t take another episode.  Although I’ll be safe for the next few weeks.  We got a phone call at six this evening, when I thought I was safe for the day, informing me that there was a bed available at the Royal and I should go in at lunchtime tomorrow.  It’s a good job I’ve only one thing left to do on my list plus it’ll give my back a chance to get out today’s exertion.

To ‘Nearly’ Done List

I’ve nearly done by ‘To Do List’ along with some additional things.  That said when my sister in law rang yesterday afternoon I got panicky thinking it was the hospital and I hadn’t finished it.

In addition to the list I’ve cancelled the laptop insurance for our lost laptop, changed energy supplier, got a better deal on the house phone, added some yarn that’s been lying around to my yarn index, made a dressing gown that was too much of a bargain to leave on the rail into a cardigown and knit/crocheted this…

Some assembly still required

I had two units of blood today so I fully expect to finish my list tomorrow and I’ve told B that with this haemoglobin boost and once I’ve caught up with my sleep tonight he better brace himself as I’ll be so full of beans.

Now usually, although I’m not shy with my opinion, I’m not one to force advice on people but I’d like to finish today with a little bit of marriage guidance for the ladies.

When one’s husband says that the district nurse was at his mother’s tending too a sore on her bottom he may not appreciate it if one responds with ‘A pressure sore?!?  That’ll be because she’s sitting on her arse to much.’

Odd Man Out

I used to love Sesame Street especially Mr Snuffleupagus (or however that’s spelled), the Count counting and Ernie the Grouch – so let’s get all Sesame Street – ‘One of these things just doesn’t belong here, one of these things just isn’t the same.’

Buddy

An orange

Me

Any guesses? Well if you guessed me you’d be right. The connection between Bud and the orange is this…

B has stuck both Bud and the orange with it. After taking Bud to the doggy dermatologist for his allergy related cysts and infections on his paws back in September she suggested that we could try a desensitising vaccine on him. Now I may have been tempted to say no but his paws did look quite sore and there’s also the risk of an infection I could pick up and the other longer term treatment if he needed it involved a medication that I wouldn’t be able to touch, so I said yes.

B took him for his first jab while I was in hospital. The dermatologist said that we could do the rest of the injections at home, there’s about ten in all but B felt that he couldn’t manage it on his own with so he’s been taking Bud back to the vets and the nurse has been doing it. Well, the nurse did the second one and then B did the third under her supervision. On Thursday we took Bud for his fourth and B did that one too. Bud however wasn’t as settled and calm as on the previous occasion – possibly because I was there – and I have to admit my heart was in my mouth when Bud started to wriggle while B still had the needle in. B has decided that he will take Bud back for another one under instruction and then give them a whirl at home.

The nurse had given B the old syringe on the third trip and suggested he practise on an orange which he did. Now when we went to the clinic on Friday I got some anti-clotting Fragmin injections, because of the Thalidomide, and on Friday when I did the first one I asked B if he wanted to do it since both mine and Bud’s are done subcutaneously (under the skin as opposed to into a vein). He declined and maybe it was just as well he did if we take a little looky at the post injection orange…

Back away from the netbook

Seriously technology in our house at the moment needs to carry a health warning – from the hardware to the software (the software probably being me).

The netbook or notebook, depending on which one of us you ask, the manual says notebook but accordingly to B the sign in the shop said netbooks, ended up getting a second return visit to said shop. Boxing Day B took me for dialysis because hospital transport wasn’t available and I’d downloaded a film to watch. I had however noticed previously that there was a ‘problem’ with the sound coming out of the speakers so after a bit of ineffective twiddling with settings we ended up with an ear-phone each and a slight list towards each other so that they didn’t fall out.

Off we traipsed the following day to complain about the level, or rather lack of it, of sound coming out of the speakers with me all prepared to request, if not demand, a different make while staying as far away as possible from strangers and their strange bacteria.  Now to give the IT guy in the shop his due he didn’t at any point give either of us a look which said ‘Oh for goodness sake – what a pair of numpties!’ as he said ‘Speakers aren’t very good on netbooks. They are really designed as a quick and easy way of accessing the internet but I’ve have a listen to it and see.’ ‘Yes’ I said ‘but you can barely hear it.’ And apparently ‘barely hear it’ was the correct sound setting as the netbook only has one  low quality speaker. He did go on to say that some laptops don’t produce much by way of sound but since ours is as good as watching something on the TV we weren’t aware of such problems.  On his recommendation we paid less than £10 for a USB speaker which turned out to be LOUD – so we didn’t have to sit as close together on the Wednesday.

Having mentioned the laptop there’s another technology issue. As you may recall B took the laptop in for some treatment of it’s own while I was in hospital. Said treatment by the way had nothing to do with me and the orange pop (soda), the graphics card had bust. The laptop was also due home on Christmas Eve per a conversation B had in the shop and two texts I received – well okay the first text said 25 December but the second one said 24. B called for the laptop before he called for me but unlike me it wasn’t there to be collected. The shop said they mustn’t have had the delivery yet. Later in the afternoon I got a further text saying it would be in on the 29th. B called on the 30th and guess what – no laptop and so far no text. Oh, but we have had two stories about items left for repair with this shop that got lost.

And then last week I couldn’t remember my email password – I mean it’s not like I don’t use it much. Okay it hadn’t been getting as much use as usual by any stretch of the imagination but really. Mind you this would also tie in with forgetting my blog password while in the Royal. I think this added to the confusion as I was sure I’d changed it to something similar to the email. After numerous attempts B suggested that I should check the notebook with passwords. I however was insistent that it wouldn’t be in there because I’d changed it while away from home. Fortunately I ignored my own insistence and lo and behold it was in the book because I’d changed it a few months ago when yahoo told me my account had nearly been spammed or something. As it turned out I was just one capital letter shy of getting it right first time round but then I had started to think about it which let’s face it sometimes with passwords, and card pin numbers, is never a good thing.

And I still haven’t got round to adding the netbook to our home broadband so I keep needing to top up the mobile broadband – how lazy can some people be?

Oh, and then there’s been the fun and games with my new mobile phone. I didn’t really want a new phone, I liked my old one. ‘Then why get one?’ I hear you ask. Well, because during my stay at the Royal I spent on my pay as you go tariff more than I usually spend in two years so I thought it might be a good idea to get something cheaper. Since I couldn’t just move over to pay monthly with my own service provider without getting a new phone I did a little shopping around and found a deal with Tesco for £7.50 a month, 230 minutes, 5000 texts and some internet use which included the following phone…

and although it arrived probably more than a week before Christmas I only got round to finally transferring my number on 29 December but was refusing to spend any more with Virgin so I was receiving with one and sending with the other – which was fun. And I spent at least an hour and a half transferring contact details from my old phone to my new one one day on dialysis last week so at least I knew who was sending me stuff again. I must admit me and mobiles are limited to minimal usage, texting, calling, as an alarm, taking the odd picture, listening to music very occasionally so I don’t want anything fancy from a phone however when I first switched this one on I thought it was defective as I couldn’t get any menu options up – turned out it wasn’t the phone that was the defective one!  I was pushing the wrong button. After persevering and ‘finding’ the right button I decided to give the new phone a go because I hate texting with all the pressing of keys to get a letter and this new phone has a tiny QWERTY keyboard on it so I can just switch off and let my thumb find the letters – it’s so quick.

And the big plus with Tesco is that I can actually use this mobile in the house. Oh, I could receive texts but to send a response I had to stand near the porch window and on occassion actually wave the phone out of the front door to even get a signal and the phone would ring for a call but then cut out unless I pressed myself against a window. Now you wouldn’t think that Tesco would provide better coverage than Virgin.  And its just as well I’m not easily embarrassed as it rang for the first time in the lift with two ambulance men.  One of them checked their phone, then when it was still ringing the other tapped his pocket and then they both looked at me and asked if it was mine.  ‘Oh, it could be I haven’t heard it ring yet.’

And I haven’t even mentioned how we seem to have lost the ability to get Sky TV on the telly in our bedroom. I thought it might have something to do with upgrading to a high definition box but we can still get it in the back bedroom and B’s is showing some reluctance to checking the cable – I mean it only involves getting up on next door’s garage roof.

Fortunately the one thing that does seem to be working fine is the Xbox 360 I got B for Christmas. I hadn’t got him anything and accidently clicked on an advert which showed them. So on 22 December I ordered one from Amazon and they delivered it, along with a game from Auntie Ann, on the 23rd – can’t knock that for service. However the game that he considered I’d got for myself (and he wasn’t completely wrong) is the one that he keeps playing and he’s way better at it than me – it would appear I just don’t have the patience. It all goes a bit pear shaped and I just want to go back to knitting – and this hasn’t been without boo boos recently either, but more on that again.  Although if B says ‘D’ya know what I mean?’ one more time while informing me of something in relation to the game he could be getting a boo boo of his own.

Happy New Year

Happy 2012! I have to admit I’m not a big fan of New Year’s Eve. I looooooove Christmas and for me New Year pales in comparison. However something this year made me think of the traditions that use to happen when I was younger. We would all go to my Great Auntie Betty’s for Christmas Day and then New Year’s Eve, but New Year would include more friends and neighbours. Just before midnight the men, with me tagging along, would go out the back gate, down the entry (alleyway) and round to the front door. At 12 someone would knock, the door was opened and the New Year let in. This was always done by a man and preferably one with dark hair – Auntie Bet was made up with B for this reason. I don’t remember any of the other traditions actually being carried out but I do remember people talking about things they use to do such as carrying coal, bread, to ensure there was heat and food for the coming year. At our current house I suppose I couldn’t expect B to go out the back door and round the front on his own, let alone carrying stuff, since it would involve several six foot fences.

Anyhoo, back to this year. The three of us spent New Year’s Eve quietly at home. Last year we went to one of our neighbour’s but his lady friend has shingles so I had to steer clear. We went to Auntie Ann’s on New Year’s Day when she cooked a fantastic roast. I ate everyting on my plate (about half/two thirds what I’d usually eat) much to B’s amazement and also causing him to exclaim ‘How come you ate all that but don’t eat all your tea?’ A friend said I should have pointed out that it was three o’clock in the afternoon and not half past nine at night! Bud got his own roast dinner too.

And you won’t believe what happened yesterday. Or maybe you will because I do tend to be slightly accident prone as evidenced last week by me knocking over two full 500ml (roughly a pint) glasses of drink within three days prompting B to ask if I was going to continue at this rate.

Anyhoo, back to yesterday. I’ve been going for dialysis on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday at seven am. B took me Boxing Day and the Wednesday of that week as there wasn’t transport available. Friday I got picked up by a mini bus type ambulance at 6.25am, Monday it was 6.10am and it turned out I needed to be ready not for 6.30 but for 6.00 as arrival time depended on who else they were picking up from where. On Wednesday I was picked up at about 6.20am and everything went fine, I felt quite good, I watched a couple of films and did some crocheting. Then when we were finished I started getting flashing light type things in my eyes suggestive of a migraine so more than anything I just wanted to get home. I managed to get down to the ‘Hospitality Suite’ without incident even though things weren’t too clear. I think you have had to experience these visual disturbances to understand completely, you can still see but not properly – it’s so weird. As it happened the driver was at the desk when I got there so there was no wait. I got on the mini bus and sat as far back as I could so I wasn’t near any bacteria I didn’t know, er I mean people I didn’t know. Altogether there was five of us being transported and I was dropped off first.

This is where it gets a bit gross so anyone with a delicate stomach may want to look away.

My sight went back to normal and fortunately no headache actually materialised. BUT I suddenly realised I felt sick. Now we know that for me ‘I feel sick’ means ‘Pass me a sick bowl immediately because I’m about to make a deposit’. BUT it was okay because I had a poop scoop bag in my pocket just in case of this eventuality. I fished it out and whilst juggling the netbook bag and large bag of crocheting/yarn I threw up. Now I thought that it had all gone either in the poop bag, in the crocheting bag or down the front of my coat so I didn’t even contemplate letting the driver know. It would appear though with the benefit of hindsight that I was wrong. I just relievedly got off the mini bus and flopped into the house, where B took my coat, hat, gloves and scarf and threw them in the washing machine whilst I went for a wash.

However it turned out that the bottom of the paper/board bag I had my crocheting in was er, we’ll go with moist, meaning that some of the vomit must have hit the floor! And I got off without saying ANYTHING AT ALL!!!!! Every time the phone rang today I thought it was going to be Hospital Transport telling me I’d been black balled. B said ‘Why didn’t you just tell the driver?’ to which I responded ‘Because I didn’t even look at the floor!’

Plus with my nature of coming clean with everything I need to explain/apologise for it to someone. Maybe I should start with the girl who sits in the other back seat ‘cos she probably got an eyeful after I’d got off. Ugh – I don’t think there’s much worse than other people’s sick. Usually I hate being sick in front of people, particularly those I don’t know, and at one point in the Royal I spilt bloody (my mouth was bleeding a fair bit) vomit on my bed sheet as I sat up in an attempt to avoid the ‘Hostess’ (catering lady) seeing the bowl of sick. So it’s not a sight I would usually force on anyone.

As it turned out I did feel decidely off for the rest of the day, slept most of the afternoon, was sick again just after I’d had a bath and barely ate any tea but I feel much better today, apart from the guilt.

So, hopefully, I’ll get picked up tomorrow morning and I really hope it’s the same driver so that I can get things off my chest first as last. I mean I’ve only been picked up three times and have already managed to make a mess.

Catching up

Wednesday 2 November – Saw Prof, got two units of blood donated by a wonderful stranger.  (This seems like it was about two months ago rather than just over two weeks.)

Thursday 3 November – Can’t remember exactly (at all) which must mean I did something so wild I’ve had to erase it from my memory OR I spent the day knitting and taking it easy following a long day on the Wednesday and possibly threw in a walk with Bud.

Friday 4 November – Charged full of wonderful stranger’s even more wonderful haemoglobin I had by 10.00 am cleaned down and painted the tops of three radiator cabinets, touched up the bottom of the lounge door and nearby skirting board and painted the banister handrail and newel post finials.  Now I realised as I was regaling my Auntie Ann later in the day with my escapades that this wasn’t actually that much and that the ‘old Paula’, to quote B, would have had a room emulsioned in a morning but I thought it was quite an accomplishment and my back certainly paid attention – it needed a sit down and an extra painkiller then and later.

In the afternoon we went to Auntie Ann’s but on the way stopped off to purchase a fridge freezer and a tumble dryer (because the old ones had only been bust for six and 12 months plus), and I was so decisive.  When we’d been a few weeks before I’d been all foot draggingly enthusiastic ‘Yeah, it’s a fridge, yep that’s one too, oh a black one!  I don’t want black.’

And I managed to persuade B that the ideal thing for tea was a Chinese takeaway.  He was reluctant as we’re, well technically I’m supposed to be sticking to a borderline neturopenic diet to rule out a potential stomach bug as opposed to a side effect of Revlimid but it was over a week since I’d had Revlimid.  B was more reluctant as he didn’t think I’d eat much but I stuffed it down and he had to fight for his share. Mmmmmmmmm!

Saturday 5 November – We were both up bright and early for once and went to town shopping.  We then had a walk with our small furry family member and went to a BBQ and fireworks display at our neighbour’s in the evening.  (Just in case you’re wondering we celebrate the 5^th of November as Bonfire Night to commemorate Guy Fawkes’s attempt to blow up parliament.)  My back requested extra painkillers as I made it stand up in the cold and it was still getting over Friday.

Sunday 6 November – The fridge freezer and tumble dryer were being delivered some time between 10.34 am and 2.34 pm (and I think I’m precise with times).  B was going to get up at 9.00 am to empty the fridge.  However by the time he got up I’d cleared out the fridge, had a crochet, an extra painkiller – what a surprise, a sit down and then cleared out the freezer.

B then got up and moved the old fridge and cleaned the floor underneath – no photo is available as it may very well have been considered age restricted.  Whilst the fridge was moved Bud gave it the once over…

‘Ahh yeah mate.  I see the problem…’

‘it’s not plugged in!’

The new items arrived…

I got the privilege of reading the instruction booklet so I could tell B how it worked as the old one had about three buttons – hot, cool and go.

As you can see, although the fridge is stable, it needs a bit of attention to make it straight – B is in no rush so I think that might be the New Year and since I want the door reversed too and it includes just 32 easy steps I’m thinking that might be 2013!

I have to admit I may very well have attempted the door myself while B did this in the afternoon…

but I had a ballet to go to in the evening – just to watch, it was good blood but not that good!  Vienna Festival Ballet in The Nutcracker.  My favourite so far – okay fair enough I’ve only seen three but I liked this for the humorous bits – by which I mean there were funny bits in the ballet as opposed to just trying not to snigger when the male dancers  bound on in tight white tights – I mean really there was no doubt the Nutcracker could have cracked nuts!

And then Chris and I got another takeaway on the way home and it was almost equally as yummy as Friday’s.  Oh, and I needed an extra painkiller to cope with the theatre seat (this does become relevant later).

Tomorrow we’ll find out how much else I got done until I ran out of juice!

Oh and it was our wedding anniversary yesterday so although there’s no prize – other than a sense of smugness if you get it right – feel free to guess how many years we’ve been happily married!  Okay I guess that could differ between B and I so we’ll just go with how many years we’ve been married! ;D

Sometimes you just want a good night’s sleep

 

One of the things you look forward to when you get home from hospital is a good night’s sleep.  I didn’t sleep too badly but since I was attached to various antibiotics/flushes for the previous three nights I did get disturbed a few times even though the nurses are very quiet.

B got home early on Friday, came straight to bed at which point I proceeded to have a coughing fit so got out of bed to avoid disturbing him and sat on the settee for an hour eating an ice lolly.  I then went back to bed and snuggled down for a few more hours sleep.

8:22am the phone rings until it goes to 1571 (answer service) and then it rings again.  B got out of bed and checked the number – it was his brother.  While B was checking who had called – the b-i-l must have called a third time and left a message unbeknownst to us at the time.

At 8:22am when he knows B would be in bed (not that it’s the first time he called at 7:25am two Friday’s before) and what he thought I would be doing I don’t know.

When I did get up – after not falling back to sleep properly just doing that dozing thing (that I don’t like) when you have funny dreams there was a message.

‘When did you last go to my mum’s?  I was there at ten past nine last night and the fridge freezer is broken.  It’s leaked on the floor.  We need to get another one sorted ASAP so that would be today or tomorrow.  We can pick it up either in your car or in mine because I have an estate.  (DER!) Can you go and look at Currys or check it out on the internet. (Statement not question.)  And we need to decided if the carpet tiles can be dried or if they need replacing.’  All in the tone of an emergency – to quote an old boss of mine – ‘it’s an emergency if something’s on fire or bleeding profusely’.

When B got up he sorted lunch out while I had a tootle on the web, found an ideal small fridge freezer, B gave it the stamp of approval, I ordered it and it was available for free delivery on Saturday.  Job done – well you’d think so.

It was an open delivery time (8am to 7pm) as that was all that was left.  The b-i-l wanted a number to call about this – well yes, because the m-i-l has such a busy schedule – and I’m sure if they had any timed slots available they would have been more than happy to charge us £21 for one.

Further phone calls asking whether B was going to go and sort it out on Saturday and then it turned out that when the b-i-l had called at the m-i-l’s at 9:10pm on Thursday he hadn’t emptied the freezer as he didn’t have time – I mean what five minutes – bin bag to bin!  So B went and cleared it out and wiped it down.

Saturday the fridge freezer was delivered at some point in the afternoon, they took away the old one and set up the new one and then we got a call from the b-i-l saying it was there, it needed to stand for four hours and then be switched on and was B calling round.  Now we’d had a little trip out to the butchers and green grocers to get supplies for a hot pot because that was what I was craving (it smelled gorgeous but I didn’t enjoy it) – I’d been reluctant to go but felt better for the fresh air but then needed an hour and a half’s sleep after making the hot pot and we’d decided that a little trip out to Auntie Ann’s would be nice for us so he’d see what he could do.  When he did call round at 8:30pm the m-i-l was upstairs going to bed and the fridge was switched on.  (She did shout down a request, well probably more a demand, for a cup of tea but B told her that since she was already going to bed she didn’t really want one!)

And then yesterday I went for my MRIs.  I am somewhat claustrophobic and my biggest concern is having some sort of screaming hissy fit part way through and I think it is just the thought of embarrassing myself that keeps me from doing it.  I was in there ages – at least 50 minutes to an hour and I rested by hands palms up and concentrated on my breathing (as per armchair yoga teacher’s relaxation).  I opened my eyes prematurely on the way out from the last one (lower back) and I wasn’t all the way out so I snapped them quickly shut again.   Now I hadn’t given much thought to the head MRI which was just as well.  Chris called round last night and she has always said that if she ever needs another one they will need to sedate her as it was truly awful (turns out she didn’t close her eyes from the get go).  I’d always said it wasn’t that bad, eyes, closed, relax, don’t think about the fact that you’re in a tube.  Last night I said that she is never, ever to say to me how awful an MRI is until she has had one with her head in a plastic cage.  ‘Just pop your head in the hole.’ In this plastic brace thing.  GULP!  Surely they won’t put anything on top I thought and didn’t quite close my eyes in time to avoid seeing it close in.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch The Man in the Iron Mask again without having hysterics.

I am overall feeling better, temp seems to be a bit high in a morning, and there has been a little bit of knitting going on – Friday there was about three/four rows and then Saturday a few more.  I put the shawl to one side for something easier and decided to do the pyjamas for the one of the bears I’m knitting.  This is how it’s going so far…