Out, damn'd spot!

This quote from Lady Macbeth when she was a bit upset, seems to sum up the experiences of Keith and myself over these past two days.

About seven years ago, Keith had a few episodes of venous bleeds from one of his feet but  fortunately, nothing since, until yesterday, that is. The day before, he had noticed a tiny pinprick of broken skin on his left foot and put a plaster on it, which he removed yesterday morning in the bathroom. It wasn't until he was halfway down the stairs, and I was in the middle of making the bed, that I heard a cry of anguish and, rushing to the top of the stairs, I was confronted by the sight of Keith, sitting on a step vainly trying to stem the flow of blood spurting out of his left foot. Several sodden towels later, the bleed was showing no signs of stopping so I took the decision to dial 999 and request an ambulance pronto, which duly arrived within minutes, together with two very nice men in green who proceeded to investigate, interspersed with a conversation about their ambulance and Keith's  along the lines of 'My one's better than your one.'

And, guess what? The bleeding had stopped under all those towels, but they bandaged it up, wrote copious notes, decided he didn't need to have a ride in their ambulance after all and departed.

The rest of the day was as normal - for Keith anyway. For me, it involved lots of cleaning up of blood and phone calls about insurance and quotes for new stair carpet. 

So, last night, with the stairs now looking as if half a dozen axe murderers had been let loose on them, we took ourselves off to bed.

Fast forward to this morning. Keith got up at six o'clock, as he has a 'round bottom' and doesn't tend to linger in bed once he's awake, whilst I promised myself that, today, I would not be leaping around with towels, doing battle with fountains of blood, and turned over for another hour of zeds.

Unfortunately, fate decreed otherwise and we were soon in the middle of a scenario almost identical to yesterday's except that, this time, it was the bedroom carpet that was getting it.

This time, the bleed didn't stop properly so, foot tied up in a plastic bag, I drove him smartly down the road to the hospital. This time, he saw a very nice doctor, who put a couple of stitches in, which, fingers crossed, have sorted it.

However, Keith has spent the day looking pale and interesting and confesses to not feeling 100%, so I am hoping a good night's sleep will have him feeling much better by tomorrow.

"I can't see how murderers are able to clean up every speck of blood like they do in the films," Keith mused last night.

"Oh they probably have dark coloured carpets," I said.

"What colour carpet are we going to get?" he asked.

"Something dark," I said...

Bank Holiday ...

...dawned bright and sunny - yes really! However, it didn't last any longer than it took me to walk the dogs and then the cold and grey set in. Meanwhile, Keith took himself off to the van to do mysterious things therein. Just think 'shed on wheels'. 

At lunchtime, he emerged. "Ah," I thought, "he's going to suggest we go out for lunch."

Fool that I am.

"Would you like to come to Maplins with me?" he said. "I need to get some SZX3257s (or some such thing)."

He certainly knows how to live it up on a bank holiday.

I went.

It was ... such fun!

Just driving along...

How's this for Elf and Safety - Russian style!

Trolley rage?

In the great scheme of things, it's insignificant, but relatively annoying nonetheless. Sainsbury's have one checkout which is specifically for baskets, the idea being that if you have only a few items to pay for, it's quicker to go through one checkout specifically for that situation and it makes sense, or at least it does if everyone reads and takes notice of the large sign above which says, 'Baskets only'. Heck, it doesn't even say it in welsh, just pure, simple, straightforward english.

But this morning, I and another basket-carrying lady were held up by a man with a trolley and a fairly well filled one that that. We shared sympathetic glances and mutterings and then another man pulled up behind me with his well-laden trolley.

I pointed out to him, politely, that this was a basket-only checkout and after he had pretended not to hear me or to have any idea what I was talking about, he said,

"Oh, I didn't realise you were an employee of Sainsbury's!" Followed by, "Yes OK, I can read!"

"Ah," I said, "so it's just that you are quite happy to inconvenience other people?"

To that, I got no reply. Mind you, I was quite pleased that, for once, I had been able to think of a smart reply at the time instead of ten minutes later. I must be getting better at this 'grumpy' lark!

But what I was really annoyed about is that the checkout person, also a man, but let's not read anything into that, completely failed to point out to either customer that they should not be at that checkout. 

"Oh well, they'd already started unpacking their trolleys," was his excuse.

To which I say, if the store has decided to have a checkout dedicated to baskets only, the employees should be enforcing it, not leaving it to us customers to slug it out between us!

Riding high

This is Younger Daughter on her pony, Star in action last weekend. This pony is usually referred to as 'Asbo Pony' but that day she behaved herself - more or less...

Meanwhile, today is Keith's birthday, which means that for the next four months, he will be a year older than me again. Keith and I generally have the same attitude towards birthdays - they are best ignored - but he still gets cards and presents and, importantly for him, a cake!

Only a very small one.

"Look on it as me saving you from yourself," I suggested.

He wasn't convinced.

Hole in the ground

This is what happens round here when the road has just been resurfaced...

Well, it would be too straightforward to do the underground stuff first.

This weekend

Well, Dad's shingles attack is, thankfully, not too bad so I have come back home today to recommence looking after the other three males - Keith, Paddy and Jake.

While I was down at Dad's though, Kathy also made a flying visit, which meant we were able to have a good catch up.

Kathy is going to a wedding next weekend and has decided to dress in fifties style, even to the extent of acquiring some seamed stockings! It seems you really can get anything on Ebay.

After she got home yesterday, she sent me a photo of herself in her outfit.

Smart!