Please...

Spent the morning at my pre-op appointment. I think I passed all the questions eg,
‘Have you, or any of your family, had CJD? (Mad Cow Disease!)
‘No.’
‘Do you have any special dietary requirements?'
‘Yes. M&S Ready Meals.'

An old chap on the bus on the way had evidently been to the hospital too. He really wanted to tell someone - anyone - that his rare condition seems to have gone. He was on 50 pills a day, and he’s now on 9. He was so happy. And I was happy that he shared his happiness with me.

Home to see the wee fella, in less time than I thought it would take. I have a whole bagful of bumph to read and carbohydrate drinks to take just before admission. I am very impressed with the care and attention. The grumpy person on the desk even yanked out the plug in a barely contained rage when I asked for a quiet place to sit and wait, instead of listening to yelly screechy radio.

I fiddled about on the computer and threw the ball in the hallway for Archie. Every now and again I’d look around, and there he’d be - sitting waiting for the ball to be thrown again. Persistent. But very sweet.

This evening Uncle A and I wandered over to an art exhibition of chap who used to teach with my father many moons ago (he was much younger than my father). They had a shared connection with a small island in the Hebrides, and his art work was inspired by this time. Uncle A bought two prints, but I resisted, having some paintings still in the cupboard because I can’t fit them in.

I didn’t bring my camera, but I happened to glance at the chap beside us crossing the road - a one man band with the most amazing bits and pieces hanging off him. Edinburgh in the Festival, eh!