Gallstones 'R Us!

"I can see some lovely stones here," exclaimed the very nice lady doing my ultrasound on Tuesday evening.

Why is it that health professionals display such undisguised delight in giving you such news? It's a bit like the weather forecasters on TV who announce, with a broad grin, that we can expect torrential rain or six feet of snow. 

Oh well, looks like I shall be getting another 'zip.'

And I'll probably start listing to the right when I walk. After all, I've already lost an ovary on that side, so after losing my gall bladder, there will be quite a big hole in there on my right side. 

Keith offered to do the operation for me at home as he thinks he has all the requisite tools. I think perhaps the mention of keyhole surgery set him off on that train of thought.

Amazingly, I declined.

Advertising

Making a quick visit to Avon Valley Railway yesterday with Dad, I noticed that they have reclaimed some of the old advertising boards from yesteryear. See how many of them you recognise. The more familiar ones there are, the older you are, of course... 

These were the days when smoking was not punishable by instant hanging,, drawing and quartering! Indeed, in some circles it was even thought to be good for you. 

Dogs 'R Us

Jake's favourite place to lie is on the pouffe when Keith has his feet up.

Paddy? Well, Paddy, as you can see, just likes to keep his computer skills up to date. Well, he does contribute the occasional post to this blog, as you know.

Signs of Spring

This is how things were looking on our walk this morning.

Well, actually this one was taken last week.

 

Cat's teeth!

Borrowed from Elder Daughter (and not beyond the bounds of possibility!)

So disappointing!

Oh the wickedness of it! The callous disregard for Keith's delirious expectations of a day watching Formula One on Sky!

The awful truth of the matter is that, in spite of Keith's ticking off the minutes since stupid o'clock this morning, in eager anticipation of an early visit from Santa Claus the Sky man, as yet, no human being has  approached our doorstep, except for the two deliveries of lovely Mother's Day flowers, sent by Elder and Younger Daughter, which only served to compound his agony. The 'window' for installation was between 8am and 2pm and regrettably, the unfortunate employee of Sky has, as yet, failed to appear. He has 25 minutes before Keith instantaneously combusts.

Does he appreciate, I wonder, the scene of distraught hand-wringing and groaning in the living room chez Jennyta?

Does he understand that he is taking his life in his hands with ever-increasingly disastrous consequences when he does eventually appear?

Has the realisation of all this caused him to head for the hills, never to be seen again?

Formula One

Keith has not been happy these past few weeks, no, not because of anything I've done, but because SOMEONE decided that, for the next few years, Formula 1 coverage should be almost entirely on a special, dedicated channel under the auspices of Sky. Now, I can live with that. In fact, unknown to Keith, I was dancing for joy at the thought of not having to be subjected to endless, boring hours of kids in cars going round and round as fast as they can. For me, the pleasure of watching that sort of drivel entertainment, is not just limited, but totally, absolutely, definitely non-existent. Still, each to their own. Keith maintains a studied indifference, nay contempt for Emmerdale and Coronation Street (and these days, he could be right) but he still surreptitiously watches them if they're on.
Anyway, at the beginning of the week, his pain was almost palpable, as was his moaning, so I heroically suggested that maybe it was time to return to being Sky customers. I did also point out to him that I am actually not in favour of contributing any further to Rupert Murdoch's coffers, so my suggestion was purely because I couldn't stand any more moaning altruistic but, before I could draw breath, he was on the phone, had sorted out the package and arranged installation at the first available millisecond, which is some time tomorrow morning. So now, the moaning is all about how he is missing the practice sessions, which is, in effect, extra hours of boy racers hurtling round and round, so I'm not sympathetic at all on that score.
Tomorrow, I think Paddy and Jake might be getting some extremely long walks!