There will be blood

Or will there?
 
Went to the GP this morning, having had to fight for an appointment that didn’t involve waiting a month. You know the sort of thing, redial fifty three times (I am not joking) be told you are eighth in the queue, get interrogated by a receptionist who clearly went to medical school because she wants to know if you really ARE ill … see a very thorough, skilled and professional GP who says you need blood tests, for which there is a two week wait … and we wonder why our A&Es are so full. So there will be blood but not for another fortnight …
 
Maybe that was why I bought a bag of Spanish blood oranges from the grocers as I walked back to the car. I love blood oranges. They are so spectacularly sweet and look a bit scary, both on the inside and the outside, and only available for a few weeks each spring. Really lovely; I thought they would go down well in the office, bit of five a day. But no-one was interested except Mrs B here who had a piece with her lunch.
 
I remember going to see a Spanish dance troupe perform an adaptation of Lorca's Blood Wedding about thirty years ago. Only problem was that someone forgot to tell the dancers who thought they were doing a series of light flamenco exhibition pieces. So no blood then either, although the lead male dancer was, by way of compensation, described as "the most virile man in Cadiz". 

Other news:

Day Three in the Patio Big Brother house and the sandstone is now going in … surprisingly big job doing a patio properly. Lot of heavy lifting and precision in your drainage angles. Hopefully by the bank holiday weekend we will also have new outdoor furniture and planters and who knows what … roll on Mayday.

Dylan had a traumatic trip to the vet. But it's nine o'clock and he is all curled up and sleeping it off ...