It's only a very tiny one, but lovely - made to celebrate the new "Simon's Cat" book.

http://www.simonscat.com/hotspot.html

A few emails later...

Most of the later emails from Head Office said we apologise for the delay in responding to you... we have clearly fallen short of our standards and for that we cannot apologise enough... the report has now been completed and someone else will assess it before replying to you. We have impressed upon our staff the importance of making phone calls when a call has been promised. And they laid the blame for erratic expiry dates firmly at the feet of their suppliers.

And then they started ending with "I hope this has now been resolved to your satisfaction." To which the answer was: nearly but not quite.  You haven't commented on the fact that stock isn't rotated, or that I was promised a phone call which I still haven't had after five (now six) weeks. Nobody has mentioned the outstanding packet of pills. Presumably I am still expected to make a fourth avoidable jouney to pick it up myself, rather than get it delivered? what price goodwill?

The "someone else" who'd been charged with assessing the report phoned me up - brave lad. Heart in mouth no doubt. I have to confess that I can't remember what he said. Perhaps he wanted to talk to me to check that I wasn't a total nutter waging a personal war against pharmacists.

He also wrote to me, offering - as a gesture of goodwill - £15 in retail vouchers, or vouchers to be used in their shops. I told him I'd be happy to accept £15 to spend anywhere, but thought the goodwill would be slightly diluted if it could only be spent in their branches.

An hour later, I got the call I was promised on 7th September. It was a member of staff at the local branch, and it wasn't someone I knew.  No, she only started a week ago. Sounds normal - give the new girl the scary jobs! She wanted to arrange a delivery date and we agreed on Friday afternoon.

Friday's post brought two vouchers, £5 and £10, both for use in any branch of their pharmacy. I don't particularly want to go back. Perhaps I can give them away. No, they have my name printed on them, and they need to be presented with ID.

The doorbell at two o'clock brought a man clutching a little bag containing one packet of pills. I've checked them - they're the right ones and they have a year of shelf-life left.

A few weeks ago, I arranged for a local chemist - an individual family-run shop - to collect my prescriptions from the surgery, and to deliver them. They don't restrict deliveries to certain classes of patients - they deliver to anyone who wants it - they like to keep their customers happy. I hope it works!


After six months of not getting more than four hours' sleep a night, imagine my joy yesterday morning when I woke up after three hours but managed to doze off again for another four. Unfortunately I was awake for two hours in the middle.

This morning I slept for three, woke up for three, slept for another three. It's better than struggling through the day on three or four hours but I would very much like to reduce the gap a bit. OK, a lot. Till six months ago, I was sleeping for seven or eight at a stretch. Happy days. The change happened overnight. Wish I knew why. And what to do about it.

It's our home-grown photographer-cum-poet's birthday today.

Have a wonderful day, Garry. Save us some jelly and ice cream.
(((((())))))

My cousin was born in York but his parents brought him to London when he was about 20. Forty years on, he and his wife have moved back up north, and I sent them a happy new home card, which I signed Lesley and Jonathan. He phoned up and chatted for a few minutes. Eventually he asked "Did you send a card?"
Yes, I did.
"We couldn't work out who it was from. We thought one of the names was Jonathan and (my wife) has a relative called Jonathan, but we couldn't work out what the other name was. So it was you?"
Yes, what did it look like?
"Nothing on earth!"

There's nothing like a gracious thank you, is there? I asked my brother how my writing was good enough for the post office but not them, and he had an answer: "Because the post office aren't illiterate."



My niece had a chemo line inserted on Monday, and her first dose of chemotherapy on Wednesday. She crawled home, exhausted and sick, and isn't answering the phone. Nobody in the house is picking up the phone. Her slightly younger sister, who is one of the most capable and calmest people I know, has some contact, and I am treating her as an information hub.

My SIL is phoning everyone and shouting at them because her daughter isn't answering the phone, or returning her texts, and she's worried because her daughter is feeling so ill. She rang me up at half past ten in the evening, with a borderline teary voice, complaining about everyone and everything, without knowing the full story behind anything. I managed to convince her that feeling tired and sick after chemo is normal, and that her daughter needs a complete absence of pressure. I didn't say I can't blame her for not answering the phone if she's going to get shouted at.

SIL wanted me to send a text and see if I got an answer. I didn't, because I thought it was intrusive and unnecessary and, as I don't normally send her texts, would probably come across as more pressure. I've sent a pretty card she can read, smile at (I hope), and put away without feeling that she has to respond. I put on my best stern voice and told my SIL to send text messages without including a request for an answer: to allow her second daughter to be an information hub: and to trust her family and medical people to look after her. Everyone feels bad that my SIL hasn't been able to talk to her daughter, but everyone understands why.

"This too shall pass." (Rowena's favourite expression)



When my breathing went silly in April, Jonathan said it was a perfect match for descriptions of asthma. My GP said you need to wheeze quite a lot more before we start thinking that it might be asthma. He prescribed antibiotics, which didn't work.

He spoke most disparagingly of the inhalers his locum had prescribed for me. "Inhalers will help anyone to some extent." (Don't knock it - they're helping me!) He seems to have made his mind up that I have congestive heart failure, and who better to back him up than a cardiologist?

So this morning I had an echocardiogram and an electrocardiogram, and then went to see the consultant. He said that my heart was healthy, my replacement valve had been well maintained, and he was discharging me. I definitely haven't got heart disease. (Phew.) He thinks I've got asthma. Actually, having passed me earlier and heard me coughing, he is convinced I've got asthma. My next GP appointment is going to be great fun.

He did ask if I would come back, as an examination aid. He is the chief examiner for a load of doctors who want to become consultants, and he wants to see if they can identify and explain my scar - "because they won't be much use as consultants if they can't!" He's also thinking of giving me roles to play, like pretending I have chest pain, and seeing who knows what they're doing. Hmmm.

My reward will be in heaven or in cake; he says his wife makes wonderful cakes.

Jonathan laughed his head off when I told him what had happened. "What did I tell you last April?" Wonder if my GP will laugh as much.

Edited to add:

My mother had asthma, and so did her sister - so perhaps this is just one more thing that's written into my genes and I can't escape.

Sounds like Captain's Log, stardate September 2009. I'll try and think of a more interesting title next time I do an update. Not much to report this time.


My niece was in hospital for a week, and she's been home for just over a week. The doctors say that all evidence of cancer has been removed. The plan is that she'll have a month at home followed by four months of chemotherapy and then a month's radiotherapy.

According to my brother, they also said that what they found in her lymph nodes was pointing up rather than pointing down, which is a good sign. He doesn't know what that means and I haven't got a clue either - I have never heard anything about direction of growth. Anyone?

I had a nice long chat to my brother this evening. My sister-in-law has been sending her food, and so have her neighbours. Meals must be very welcome, if you're convalescing and have three children and a working husband. (That's a husband with a job; not a working model.)

Another daughter told my SIL not to bother, because she's getting plenty of food sent to her. It'll take more than that to stop my SIL! I made the point that she probably wants to send food - which my brother hadn't thought of; and he made the point that some or all of it will be family favourites and comfort food - which I hadn't thought of (even though I like doing old favourites for my sprog). If they get too much food, bro said, they can always freeze it, although that might mean buying another freezer...


I've seen my GP for the blood test results. It's all OK, and my liver is OK too. There's just evidence of a recent infection, which is pretty much what we thought. I'm feeling well now, and my beachball has gone, so there's nothing else to do.

But we're still working on my breathing, and the next step in the investigation is a visit to cardiology for an echocardiogram, and talking to a consultant immediately afterwards. That's in just over a fortnight - something else to look forward to!


Jonathan was going to come home for Rosh Hashanah, but I told him to stay away, in case he caught what I had. It was disappointing, but I know now that it was a bug, so it was definitely the right thing to do.

He did make it home for Yom Kippur, though, and it was nice to see him even though it was only for about 30 hours and a bit of a blur.

I'll see him a few times for concerts soon, and then he will have two weeks off at Christmas, all of which he plans to spend with me. I can't wait!


There was a police helicopter overhead - it sounded like it was on my roof - for ten or fifteen minutes, at half past two this morning.

At eight o'clock this morning, the bricklayer working next door decided to take a hammer and beat the living daylights out of something metal. He's done that before - started hammering a concrete mixer at 7.30. Just because he's awake doesn't mean anyone else is, or wants to be. Would anyone be very upset if I took a hammer to him?