"You've a fearsome high....

....red blood cell count"**....said my doctor today. Honestly, medics and their confusing technical jargon.

I was attending my biennial health check; a sort of MOT consisting of prodding, pushing, stabbing, spurting, and lots of ing'ing which I'd rather not go into here. The results chat was quite interesting. Basically, all the things I can't control are in great shape and the thing I can control, needs some work. I feel another burst of blipblubberbuster coming on. My doc (from Cork) used superb, descriptive metaphors to explain herself; the one about my weight probably can't be printed outside the watershed. Even my gamma-glutamyl transpeptidases are good.....a measure of my liver's reaction to alcohol.

The weather couldn't make up its mind between cracking blue sky, snow, and a wind and rain hoolie combo.

** Not so high that it's a concern, but the use of fearsome is a little disconcerting.