Ill

A few months ago, I was ill with what seemed to me to be a gall bladder related problem - pain under the ribs and around the shoulder blade and vomiting. When I told Elder Daughter, I got the typical response, "Go to the doctor."

Do I really need to?" I asked.

 "You'll be sorry if you don't and then you get a full blown attack," was the reply.

Why are doctors so bossy?

Well, according to the age-old wisdom that daughters should follow their mothers' advice and not the other way round, I didn't. I just hoped it wouldn't happen again. When it comes to ostriches and heads in the sand, I hold the gold cup.

Fast forward to last night, sitting at Dad's, watching television and becoming increasingly aware of pain under the ribs and around the shoulder blade. After downing a couple of gallons of Gaviscon, I gave in and announced that I was going to bed and that I would be fine after a good night's sleep. And so I would, I expect, if I had managed to get a good night's sleep. Instead, the pains got steadily worse, there was no chance of me finding a comfortable lying position and I soon lost count of the number of times I vomited. (Bet you really wanted to know that, didn't you?)

So after spending a night in which I increasingly doubted whether I would ever see morning - well, you know I'm prone to exaggeration but the thought did cross my mind - I got up this morning feeling somewhat better and well enough to drive home. Staying an extra day would have been awkward as I had a number of appointments arranged for tomorrow.

However, I have to reluctantly  concede that Elder Daughter was probably right (OK she was definitely right) and I should pay a visit to the doc's. It's either that or live on dry toast for the rest of my life.

OK folks, so when your offspring tell you to do something, just do it!

Bristol snow

This is where I am this weekend.

And this is how it is looking this evening.

This is how snow looks in Bristol and I'm hoping the forecasters are right (for once) and it will all be gone for my journey home tomorrow.

Bald patches

When Jake checked in at chez Jennyta, his coat had been clipped almost into non-existence and he had purple patches on his right side, which I assumed were patches of skin pigmentation and which would soon be covered once his hair had grown back. A month later, most of his hair is growing nicely, but not the areas over the purple patches, so when I took him to the vet's today for his injections, I asked about the problem.

"Well," said the vet, "it could be one of three things; an under-active thyroid, Addison's disease or...

seasonal alopecia. Most likely to be that," she said, "as he doesn't seem to have any other symptoms. Of course, if you wanted to have the tests for the other conditions... " and she read me out the respective costs.

I remembered that Keith had said that Jake had had similar patches last year, so it seemed that the alopecia was the most likely.

Relief!

AND, he didn't try to career round the waiting room like a mad thing because of the smell of cats - like SOME dogs I could mention! (Are you reading this, Paddy?)

Multi-tasking

It's a habit I got into in my teens, when I regularly did my homework whilst also watching the television, much to the disapproval of my parents, and maybe they were right. Maybe if I hadn't,  I would have ended up with three 'A' levels at grade A and gone on to be a brain surgeon - or maybe not, but I have continued with the habit ever since. During the years when I was working full time and had four growing children, plus a dog, two cats and numerous rabbits and other small vertibrates, it seemed the only way to get everything done in the measly twenty four hours a day, seven days a week that I was allocated but, truth to tell, I still find it amazingly difficult to focus on one thing at a time. Even accepting that we women find multi-tasking so much easier than mere men - yes, Yorkshire Pudding, it's true so live with it! - I can see that concentrating on one thing at a time would probably be a better way to go. At least that way, when I asked Keith a question, I would actually listen to the answer and not have to repeat the question five minutes later.
Anyway, this morning, after the usual dog-walking duties, I have been mainly listening to Radio 4, drinking coffee, responding to emails, in between reading blogs, stroking dogs and buying and downloading 'Clever Dog'  by Sarah Whitehead for my Kindle via Whispernet.
And the handy thing about a Kindle is that you can be reading it while you are waiting for the kettle to  boil and listening to the 1947 film of 'Brighton Rock' by Graham Greene.
Yes, I know - doing everything at once and nothing well...

Teddy

Elder Daughter found this little fellow while doing a clear out at her house over the weekend. This was her first teddy, made and given to her by my mum, who at the time, did a lot of soft toy making. He's looking rather worse for wear now but he is over thirty years old and got a lot handling in his early days, hence the loss of an eye and the almost disappearance of his nose. Hopefully, he will once more have pride of place somewhere in her house!

OFSTED cometh

Actually OFSTED has already been - to Younger Daughter's place of work, a high school in the Gateshead area. They had been expecting it and, as these days, only a few days notice is given, the staff had been preparing since September. They and the support team from the local authority felt that the school was performing well and indeed, the last inspection had resulted in their being graded as 'good'. but things have changed. Under the new inspection framework, whereas 'satisfactory' used to mean 'good' (Don't ask!), now it means 'unsatisfactory' and as their grade this time round is 'satisfactory', which means it isn't, they can look forward to another inspection in 12 to 18 months. Even if they had got another 'good' it wouldn't be any help to them, as Michael Gove has indicated that schools have to continually improve. How that plays out when they get to an 'outstanding' is a point for discussion.

It seems that the staff of the school overwhelmingly felt that the OFSTED team were inconsistent in their approach and are feeling pretty annoyed at the whole experience to say the least, but I have to feel a strong sense of pride in the way Younger Daughter has picked herself up (her only gripe was that she didn't get any feedback!) and made a list of all the things she and her department need to do before the next visitation.

You see, if that were me, I would be saying something along the lines of "Sod 'em!"

Which could explain why I never got further than deputy head...!

The kid

Looks so cute and innocent here, doesn't he? He isn't!

I think Jenny's too busy to write posts at the moment - I've heard her mutter darkly about Jake going back to where he belongs (wherever that is), as she mops up yet another of his 'little accidents' on the dining room floor. What's the problem with him? He's six, for heaven's sake; that's middle aged in dog terms and at that age, he should have perfect control of his bladder - like me. 

Mind you, that's not all. He's quite sneaky too. Last week, Jenny caught him nicking one of the TV remote controls and hiding it in his basket and then there was the incident the other day. Keith has an electric massage thingy for his legs, which he had left on the floor under NASA, still plugged in and guess what the canine idiot did? He decided to have a chew on the lead and nearly electrocuted himself!

Guess he won't be doing that again in a hurry!