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I seem to have done quite a lot today.  First I went to the cardiac rehab class at the gym, then I spent about half an hour trying to find Lakeland;  I didn't realise I was on the wrong level......sigh!

I finally managed to find it and bought a sturdy-looking replacement for my super-duper vegetable peeler, which it seems may have been thrown away.  By chance I found replacement wax discs to use in the burger-maker;  they'll also be useful for fish cakes.

I spent another half an hour trying to find a shop whose name I can't remember and the loo.  I find it next to impossible to navigate that Mall, even with a map.

After lunch we went to Costco, with a strict list we were not going to deviate from and once again came home having spent about twice what I meant to spend...........sigh!............  I really shouldn't take Charles, but he's so  much more useful than John who pushes the trolley off in the wrong direction or stands about gazing into space when I need him to get something I can't reach.

I feel quite tired now!

Today Morgan has been round the block at least three times.  John met him in the front garden when he came back from taking me to the town centre, he was waiting outside for us when we both got back from town and complaining very vocally at how long he'd had to wait to be let in and shortly afterwards, he came in when I opened the front door in answer to the doorbell.   No!  Sadly he hadn't discovered how to ring the doorbell, but came in when Anne-over-the-road came to collect her key because she'd locked herself out!

He goes out over the wall to the back yard and wanders off we know not where, finally reappearing outside the front door.  I think he's very clever to recognise it because until he started doing this he'd only ever come through the front door three times, once when he arrived, once on his return from his first visit to the vet, and again after his Operation, when he was pretty much out of it.

Oh!  I forgot the time he fell off my windowsill into the front garden!

I'm a little worried now that he may be waiting out there for ages sometime soon because no-one knows he's there.  Unless someone's in the front room, we can't hear him because we have a kind of air-lock inside the front door and wouldn't normally be able to hear anything outside the front door.  If I have my window open I shall doubtless be able to hear him, because he can be very vocal.

Yesterday morning, while I was still in bed, he came into my room with a very bedraggled earthworm which he proceeded to try to squeeze into the gap between the floorboards.  I grabbed the sick-looking creature (in a tissue.........ick)  and threw it out of the window.  Later we found the dead half of it in the hall, where Morgan proceeded to eat it.  Ugh!  They look so pretty and dainty, too!

Charles and I are so fed up with never being able to find anything we want to watch on TV that we're thinking of joining lovefilm, but can't decide which programme to go for.

I must try to remember to go to the garden centre this weekend because they have BOGOF herbs;  of course, I also have to remember to take the voucher with me!

My new hairclippers finally arrived on Wednesday and yesterday I used them to tidy up my hair.  They are impressively better than the other two pairs I had, because they have just one comb which slides up and down to give the different lengths instead of an unwieldy handful of combs to be swapped around.  I really can't understand how anyone can afford to sell these, new, on eBay for £2.98.  The postage cost more than the clippers!!  My hair feels so much better now.

I quite enjoyed cardiac rehab again and I asked one of the instructors if he felt I would be able to use the gym again when I'm fitter.  He said there should be no problem and that he'll think about how my various ailments may need to be accomodated and when I'm ready he'll have a one-to-one session with me to find out what I can and can't do.  Hurrah!

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It's a lovely day today, but with a f-f-f-f-freezing wind.  Even the cats are staying indoors.

Morgan lost his collar a few weeks ago, when he got himself stuck in Martin's backyard and we hadn't bothered to replace it, but recently he's been making his way round from the back alley to the street and has been meeting us when we return in the car, loudly demanding to be let in the front door.  Once, before anybody else had been out, but after the cat-door was opened, John opened the front door to go out and collect his paper, only to find Morgan on the doorstep.  I've seen him recklessly crossing the road, too, and we get a lot of impatient traffic here, since every other man in this street is now a taxi-driver.  They all used to work in Indian restaurants, but they've decided that taxi work is better with less anti-social hours.  They're all getting a bit chubby, though!

We can't allow this to continue with no visible identification, so he's had to have a new collar.  I chose it very carefully, sapphire blue stretch fabric with gold buckle and a gold identification tag, and he looks very fetching in it, but he hates it and has spent half his time since it was put on him last night scratching to show us how uncomfortable and unfair it is.  He should be pleased that I took the bell off!  I've hardened my heart, because when we finally get round to replacing the back door and the cat-door, which I aim to do this summer, he won't be able to get in unless he has a magnet on his collar.  Even our sensible Phoebe who never strays beyond the yard has to wear a collar.

We are going to have to replace the yard door as well, because it's started falling to pieces.  Quite some time ago the top of the wall over the door fell off, and although I've reminded John many times, he hasn't done anything about it.  Now the damp has penetrated the door, which is an old fashioned heavy security door made with compressed wood dust, or crumbs, or whatever you call it, and it's swollen, making it difficult to bolt, and impossible to lock.

On Thursday we had our last writing class.  There were only five of us there, but we'd clubbed together to buy G a large book token, which she was very pleased with.  These last few classes with just the core of people who've known her for years have been lovely.  She has been very relaxed and happy and the classes have been great.  We've all of us, including G  got stuff from them that we will be able to use or refine.  In fact she wrote what sounded like a finished poem on Thursday.  She said she would fiddle with it a little more but agreed that it was practically finished.  I'm so glad the last class produced that for her.  It was quite sad, but I shan't lose contact with those of the group I care to keep up with, or with G herself, because I'm determined that she shan't lose touch with us.  As I said to Charles, it may be a corny old saying, but it's perfectly true that all good things come to an end.

One of the pluses of this is that I have a completely free diary for four weeks, followed by a couple of weeks with hospital appointments and a CT meeting and then another four weeks completely free.  Well, I say free, but there's a cardiac rehab class at the gym every Friday.  I haven't been for weeks, because something has always cropped up, but I'm determined to start going again.

In fact I'm going to overhaul my lifestyle.  My diabetes has been out of control for several months, and while the people at the diabetic clinic have said not to worry and to persevere with the Byetta while adding some Amaryl, my BG has still been far from ideal.  I value my toes and my eyes, so I'm going to make a big effort to eat more healthily, less carbohydrates and more protein-but-not-meat. And more salads;  I love salads, but the two men aren't very keen except for the occasional salad niçoise. Charles quite often does what he calls a salad, but as it's usually got fried bacon, chorizo and halloumi, or other stuff unsuitable to someone who's dieting, it's not a great help.  Mind you, the salad with chicken livers and nuts he did a couple of weeks ago was excellent!

As a final salute to comfort eating we're having a luxurious fish pie tonight, although not as luxurious as I had hoped because I couldn't get any monk-fish and they probably won't have any for another fortnight.  Apparently it's been bad weather for monkfish fishing.  Never mind, I shall savour every mouthful of the mashed potato, because it will be the last I shall have. 

It does seem unfair that even though I hardly ever eat pudding, or cake, or sweets, I still can't get my blood sugars to behave themselves.  I must get myself a jar of mixed nuts from Costco for "good" snacks!

I have already decided that I will relax my diet a little on Sundays and holidays.  I don't feel ready to say goodbye to roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings or crumble just yet!

I don't really know what else I can cut out, except white rice.  That will prevent me eating a lot of the lovely Spanish dishes Charles has taught himself , or at least, only eating them occasionally.  He's going to be cross when I tell him.  On the other hand, there's nothing to prevent Charles and John having them and I could have a small spoonful with a piece of fish.  I never get to eat as much fish as I would like to because  neither of them is very keen on it.  And I shall have to give up eating Charles' wonderful chips!  It's a great shame that the fruit I love and eat lots of seems to affect my BGs worse than it does other diabetics.  I shall have to restrict myself to fruit with lots of fibre, and just have it as puddings.  I must stop having fruit juice, too.

I've also got very slack about meal-times and when I take my medication.  I've always hated early breakfast and I often don't eat it till the morning is far advanced, which means my medication is delayed because almost all of it, except the Byetta injection is meant to be taken after food.  I'm going to have to discipline myself to eating breakfast first thing, so as to take my medication at reasonable intervals. 

I haven't tried porridge again recently, but someone on theladiesloos has suggested putting half a handful, uncooked, into my breakfast yoghurt, so maybe that will help, since the latest research suggests that eating porridge helps keep blood glucose down and helps people lose weight!  Now that I've written that, I've decided that I must try different ways of making porridge till I find a way I like.  I've always loathed porridge since I was a girl when my Aunt used to make it for my cousins and me.  I could only ever be persuaded to eat by covering it with Far Too Much Golden Syrup, which is obviously not ideal for someone trying to keep down their blood sugar and their weight!  I'm going to start weighing myself every day again now that I've finally got round to replacing the batteries in my scales, because it's only too easy too slip into bad habits if I don't.

I've also resuscitated my old Excel spreadsheet, charting what I eat every day, when I take my meds, and my weight.  Maybe stopping doing that is what has led me into bad habits!  Or maybe it will help the diabetic team pinpoint what I'm doing wrong.

Ooooo!  I've just noticed that our new DECT phones have automatically updated the time!  How clever!  Apart from the boiler, my mobile phone and my watch, everything else electric or electronic seems able to adjust itself.  Not so long ago I had to adjust fourteen or fifteen different things every time the clocks changed.  Mind you, we no longer have the time set on the oven or the microwave, the TVs or any of the set-top boxes, because they're turned off at the wall when we've finished using them.   We never tape anything from the TV nowadays, for the simple reason that there's nothing we care enough about to bother with, so the VHSs aren't showing the correct time, and the DVD doesn't care.

Ooops!  It's time to go and cook dinner.  Where has the day gone?  Well, I didn't surface until it was time for The Archers, so obviously I'm not in synch with the new time, buggrit!


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I've had a totally wasted day today because I got so little sleep last night that I couldn't do anything except sit around reading or watching daytime TV.  I've also had a vague headache all day.

I was going to use my electric scooter, (now named Libby, short for Liberty, at a friend's suggestion), to go to the hospital today for cardiac rehab, but because I felt so groggy when I got up, even though I intended to force myself to go, and because I discovered that Morgan had gone missing again and by the time I'd been out looking for him, it was too late to go and I was exhausted, I simply didn't go.  I'm a bit cross at wasting yet another day!

I can't understand why from time to time I have these patches of sleeplessness.  I was really tired and went to bed early last night, but as soon as I put the light out, I was wide awake, even though I had been yawning widely and frequently just before.  Even listening to boring stuff on the radio wouldn't do the trick last night!

I spent most of the afternoon lying under the bedspread watching rubbish TV in the hope that I would accidentally drift sideways into sleep, without my insomnia noticing, but it didn't happen.  I really hope I can sleep tonight.

I have no idea where Morgan went, but I couldn't find him;  later on he reappeared on John's bed innocently looking as if he hadn't been anywhere.  I was worried about him because it was obvious he wasn't in Adrian's yard, and as far as I knew, that was the only place outside that he could get back into our yard from.  It appears that he's mastered the art of getting back from elsewhere as well now, so I shall try not to worry about him in future.  I was more worried than I would normally have been because I knew that John must have opened the kitty-door very early since he had to leave at 5.45 this morning to drive to London, and it was still dark then.  Normally we never allow the cats out in the dark because the vet says that's when they get run over.

It's been sooo cold today and especially this evening.  I was under the bedspread all afternoon and had a fleecy throw over my legs in the sitting room this evening.

It's extremely annoying to reflect that I've spent the last 15 years feeling Far Too Hot almost all the time, but that now I could do with feeling overheated all the time and not feeling the cold, I've started feeling cold all the time, ever since I became a Poor Sickly Old Thing!

Poor John came home completely worn out because his know-how deserted him and he had trouble getting out of London after making a delivery to The Gherkin.  Flossie, his GPS, was no good because she kept wanting to take him through bottlenecks like Picadilly Circus, but his own London-smarts deserted him and he arrived home feeling that he'd pedalled all the way.  He didn't want to eat as he'd had an all-day breakfast sometime during the afternoon.  He retired to bed as soon as he got home and only got up an hour ago for a sandwich and a piece of cake.  I hope he gets a good night's sleep.  He doesn't need to get up at all tomorrow if he doesn't feel like it.

Charles, on the other hand, has been dashing about tidying the place and doing his laundry and some cleaning.  The course he's going to start in a week or so has galvanised him into action, and he came to me a little while ago asking if I had any spare clothes hangers for him to hang his shirts on!  Since his normal method of dealing with clean laundry is to leave it in a pile on a chair till he wears it again, this is revolutionary indeed!  Things have changed!  Nowadays, every time the phone rings. it's for him and he doesn't even complain about it.  It's very lucky that they've found some money from somewhere to pay for his course, because it would have been really difficult if we'd had to try to help him with it just at the moment.

It would be sooo great if some of John's clients paid up on time.  Sigh!

Neither of us felt like eating much, me, because I have little appetite at the moment and Charles, because he had a large bowl of home-made meatballs left over from yesterday for lunch, so I made us my favourite supper for times when I feel weak and feeble, of creamy scrambled eggs with tarragon on buttered toast, followed by fruit.

Tomorrow Charles will cook his lovely mackerel with lemons and peppers in tomato sauce, since we had planned to have it tonight and had already defrosted the mackerel.

I must get in a lot of fresh vegetables and mushrooms as I feel in the mood for soup with home-made bread.  It's probably because it feels soo cold.  It's always so comforting!

I must go and get my head down now, although I shall probably be back on line at 2.00 am.  Sigh!

I hope I feel less like a mound of dirty washing tomorrow, as I have lots of litle chores I need to get on with.  At least I've been to Caroline and done some work for her this week, otherwise I should feel like a complete waste of time.

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Our friend David turned up this afternoon in his prized open-top 1961 Daimler Dart to take John for a ride, but he was so paranoid about leaving it in the street with the roof open that he wouldn't come in.

He and John had a short trip to The Keelman, where they could watch the car in the car park while sitting outdoors.  John wore his corduroy flat cap, which we all felt was suitably appropriate.

John says it's a bit of a bumpy ride, but we wouldn't tell David.  He loves this car which is a nostalgic replacement for the one he had in the 60s which he had to sell when times got hard.  I know how he feels;  I often feel sad that I sold my MGBGT, even though I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get into and out of it nowadays.  I did love that car, but it had to go when Charles got too big for the skimpy back seat and had to sit with his head sideways!  I exaggerate slightly, but he did tend to hit his head on the roof when we went over a bump.  Oh well!  I was lucky enough to have it, and I did have a lot of fun in it.

The Dart is British Racing Green just like the previous one and like the colour I changed my MG to after my Big Accident.

Yesterday I shredded a large quantity of business papers, amounting to one large black bag full and this morning John put up my last shelf, so I have spent the day sorting out the small mountain of tqt in the middle of my room and spring-cleaning the drawers which contain all my craft materials. I actually have some spare shelf space, now, but not for long, I shouldn't think.

In the meantime, Morgan went missing again.  This time we found him in Martin's yard, two doors along in the opposite direction from the way he went last time.  On the few occasions Phoebe went over the wall and couldn't get back, we always found her in Martin's yard.

Unfortunately Martin was out, and since he might well be out all weekend, Charles lifted the roll-up garage door an inch or so, and Morgan managed to flatten himself sufficiently to get underneath.  He's now asleep on top of my satin bedspread, filthy dirty and worn out.

John got another cheque today so he's treating us to a takeaway and we're adventurously trying another restaurant!  I must go and be ready by the front door!
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John drove me to Halifax yesterday and while I was in my meeting he went to the Museum of Industry in Bradford.

I was sad to hear that a fellow Trustee and committee member is lying in a coma in a hospital in Tenerife.  Apparently he was taken ill just as he was about to embark on a cruise.  Isn't that just typical?  It couldn't wait till after the holiday!  Poor Brian!

We had a productive but long and exhausting meeting and John enjoyed his museum.  The trouble is, on such days I spend so much time sitting in one position, both in the car on the journey back and forth, as well as the four hours for the meeting,  that I'm usually stiff the following day.  I'm actually not too bad as it happens, but I am completely zorsted!

I've done nothing at all today except sleep late, listen to the radio, make a cake, type a couple of invoices and make the soup for this evening's dinner.  It was lentil and bacon soup and this time I soaked the lentils and split peas for several hours before making it in the hope that it might reduce the megafarts it gave me last time we had it.  It was suggested to me that the soaking might help as might the addition of a little assafoetida, but I didn't have any of that, mistakenly thinking I had some which actually turned out to be tamarind.  It was absolutely delicious with freshly baked rolls!  And we followed it with a slice of the sponge cake I made sandwiched with strawberry preserve, a tiny slice for me, a medium slice for John and one large and another small slice for Charles.

There was a letter from the hospital when I got home yesterday giving me an appointment for a CT scan next Wednesday.   The letter also stated that if I was taking Metformin I was to let the hospital know as soon as possible, so I phoned them today and was told not to take it on the day of the scan or the following day.  I've absolutely no idea why.

I don't remember Dr. Adams saying I was to have a CT scan, but he's on the letter as the referring clinician, so I suppose he must have done.  Maybe he said "Computed Tomography scan" which would explain why I didn't know, but I've no idea really.

I can't say I like the idea of lying in a narrow tube for 30 minutes while the machine takes photos of slices of me, but I shall just have to be brave and not give in to claustrophobia.  At least I shall be going in feet first for a chest scan.  The worst thing will be having to lie still with my arms above my head.  I wonder if they strap you down?  I do hope it gives some clues as to what is wrong with me;  I really don't want to be like this for the rest of my life!

I don't know what's got into the cats.  They were fed at 7.00 pm as usual and after I'd watched Deep Space Nine I went back into the kitchen to find that they'd hardly eaten any of it, but had all thrown this messy jellied cat food  all over the kitchen floor.  Spoiled brats!

Morgan has been very sweet to me today.  I think he must have missed me yesterday.  He's been demanding cuddles and snuggles all day.  At present he's asleep between the keyboard and the monitor.

He has a very endearing little habit which I've never seen in a cat before.  Most cats like to nuzzle and knead when they're little, but Phoebe was past that stage when we got her. Bramble did it but used to suck my neck at the same time, which could get a bit ickyMorgan, however, likes to lie on my chest, or Charles' chest, kneading very gently with one paw while he noisily sucks the "thumb" of the other paw, purring like a turbo-diesel all the while.  Every so often he changes paws.  It's just sooo cute!  I do wish he would stay a kitten.

My hair is such a mess!  I really need a haircut, but I've been putting it off as long as possible to save money.  I shall have to give in and make an appointment for next week, though, because I'm starting to look like a Mad Old Bat again.  I just wish it wasn't so expensive.   I can't understand why John can get his hair cut and his ears and beard trimmed for £6, when it costs me over £30 to have just my hair shampooed, cut and blow-dried, even if the girl is such a superb stylist!  It can't take that much longer than his does.

I've just realised that it's only two and a half weeks till Christmas and everyone will be wanting their hair done, so I hope I'm able to get an appointment and haven't left it too late. Aaaaaargh!  Panic!

I must leave myself a note to do the labels for Christmas cards tomorrow.  I just hope some of my Amazon order arrives tomorrow so that I can start wrapping presents early;  I hate leaving it all till last minute on Christmas Eve.  In any case, one of the things I've ordered is for Charles' birthday on the 17th..  I can't believe that tomorrow is 7th. December.  Where does the time go?

Oooo!  I must add postage stamps to that list.................
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I got to the hospital early, because I went by taxi. John had gone to Newark and I couldn't face trying to find a parking space after the last time I drove to the hospital, when I hit a consultant's car. I had time for an overpriced paper cup of coffee.

Because I was early, of course, the consultant was running late, so I sat in a superheated waiting space for well over an hour by which time I was reduced to a puddle of sweat. Who are all these people who have no trouble in sitting in crowded overheated hospital waiting rooms for hours in their overcoats?

When I finally saw the consultant, he spent quite a lot of time with me reviewing all the tests I'd had and finally telling me that he was baffled. All the tests showed that apart from my usual AF, my heart is perfectly OK and working rather well. He had wondered if I had any tiny emboli in my lungs, but the lung scan showed nothing. He reviewed everything I had told him and made a few more notes, then he made me do something which made me feel totally ridiculous.

He attached a clip to my finger and took some background readings and then he made me march briskly on the spot until I got out of breath. I felt really silly!

He found that there was a sudden big dip in the oxygen saturation level in my blood at the point where I started to get breathless.

I told him that I normally get more breathless than that if I go upstairs or uphill, and that sometimes I get a pain in the chest because of the difficulty I get in drawing breath. He mentioned that there was a faint chance that I had sustained some damage from chemotherapy, despite the MUGA scans I had and that although one would expect symptoms to show themselves straight away, occasionally they were delayed. That didn't make me feel very happy, and I haven't mentioned that possibility to John or Charles. He also mentioned the possibility that it could be angina, since, apparently, it doesn't always present with pain. I do hope not!

He was most apologetic about being unable to discover what was wrong, and he sent me for some more X-rays and blood tests. When he gets the results, if he thinks it will help, he will also send me for a mysterious BNP test for some hormone or other which is something they don't do very often as in most cases it doesn't tell them anything, but it just might tell them something about me. I got the impression that it was like being given a winning lottery ticket. He had to call his consultant friend up to ask if he would do it for me, although I don't know when that will be I have an appointment to go back to Dr. Adams in three months.

John was by now back from Newark so I called him to bring me home. When I finally got home at 1.30, after being at the hospital since 11.00, I started to feel rather unwell. I don't know whether it was the result of all that marching on the spot, or what, but I started to feel very shaky, in spite of immediately eating lunch. I should have taken my blood glucose measurement, but I just didn't think to do it. It might have been the effect of having had the extra Amaryl tablet, and then having nothing to eat all day except a yoghurt.

I had a short rest and then we all went shopping at Morrison's. John did the driving because I didn't feel up to it, but I said he could rest in the car and read a book after his early morning start, and Charles and I went and did the shopping.

It was absolutely vile in Morrison's. It was really crowded and suffocatingly hot. Thank God I had Charles with me, because I would probably have burst into tears, abandoned the trolley and gone home if he hadn't been there.  He's always such a Rock!

When we got home, all of us were exhausted and poor Charles had to unpack everything and put it away on his own because I felt so seedy. It's useless expecting John to help because he has only the haziest notion of where anything might be kept! I always think unpacking the shopping and putting it away is by far the worst part of a horrible chore. But, bless him, he didn't complain, and afterwards he made me a cup of tea.!

Yesterday Morgan disappeared again and we did the usual running up and down the back lane looking and calling.  Not a sight or sound of him.  Later when I went out again to call him at 6.00, I stood in the gateway to the back alley and called him several times.  Nothing!

When I turned round to go back indoors, he was standing in the yard near the door.  He was suspiciously dry and warm and had only slightly wet feet, so I think he's found someone nearby to take him in and make a fuss of him.  Adrian says it's not them, so I have no idea who it could be.

I still feel a bit seedy.  I think I've probably overdone it again this week, what with one thing and another and going to Caroline's yesterday to reconcile her books.  I shall have to have a quiet weekend, because I have to go to Halifax again next week for a Finance Committee meeting, which will make me feel like a bit of chewed string by the time I've left home at 7.30 and got back probably 12 hours later.  Fortunately I don't appear to have any other appointments next week and that's the way it will stay!  I need to recover my strength, such as it is.

I'm off to have a relatively early night, and I don't plan to get up till lunchtime tomorrow.  So there!

Bad Baby!

Nov. 25th, 2007 10:59 pm
blackberry444: (Default)
This afternoon Morgan disappeared!

Charles and I were seated at the kitchen table fitting an identity holder to a new red collar for him, discussing the fact that he was almost certain to be able to get out of the yard soon, when I suddenly realised that I hadn't seen him for some time and wondered where he was.

We searched the house.  He was nowhere to be found!

We went out the back gate and scoured the streets and allotments calling his name and listening at all the back gates and garage doors.  He was nowhere to be found!

We returned home and searched the house again.  He was nowhere to be found! 

We agreed that neither of us had opened the front door since yesterday, and probably not since Friday, but Charles looked in the front garden and the street anyway.  He was nowhere to be found!

We left it for 20 minutes and then went out the back gate and called and searched again..  He was still nowhere to be found.

We came back indoors.  I was feeling very upset, because it would shortly be dark and I had no idea how he would react to being out all night, specially if it was very cold again.

I was convinced he was lost and opened a Word document which was a Lost Cat notice from when Bramble went missing and updated it with Morgan's photograph and details.  Just as I finished doing so, John came back from his weekend jolly and as he came in the front door, I heard him shouting at Morgan for tripping him up.

As John came up the front path, so the naughty little chap had appeared out of the bushes and impudently pushed past John to come indoors, tripping him up in the process.

We can only think that he somehow managed to get out of the yard into the back lane, walked past 7 houses, then round the end of the terrace, and walked back past the fronts of those same 7 houses until he found our house.  But since he's never been outside the front door except in the cat-carrier, how did he know which house was his own?

We've now put the collar on him and hope that he has learned his lesson and won't go round the front again.

Both Phoebe and Bramble went missing when they were little, but neither of them ever came back round the front.  Bramble was actually very sweet, coming out with us to look for the baby and anxiously running back and forth in the allotments.  I just can't think how Morgan gave him the slip, because normally they're inseparable.  I can only conclude that Morgan must've left the yard on his own and found his own way round the front.

What a good job he had The Operation a couple of weeks ago!
blackberry444: (Default)
Poor Morgan had to go for the snip today!!

Adrian-next-door was taking him because the people he got Morgan from had offered a very cheap deal, so I got him into the travel basket just at the time Adrian was due to arrive, but I should have known better by now.  Adrian didn't turn up for 40 minutes, by which time Morgan was wailing, beside himself with desperation to get out of the box and Bramble was hanging around anxiously wondering why the baby was in prison.

He was brought home at about 4.00 pm and was still a bit wobbly and sleepy but very hungry.  Charles and I had to get busy with cotton wool and warm water to clean his poor bloody white fur, and since then I've had him locked away in my room, because Bramble wanted to start straight away with the rough play and poor little Morgan was wailing in agony.  He actually went and hid in the corner under John's desk, but in the end I fished him out and brought him into my room, mainly because I was worried that he hadn't drunk anything since this morning.

I've got his water, his food and a tray of litter in my room for tonight and probably tomorrow he'll be OK to play again.  At the moment he's fast asleep on a towel on my bed with his "Teddy"


Bramble has been wandering round disconsolately all day wondering where the baby was.  Now I'm having trouble keeping him away from the invalid.  He doesn't mean any harm, he just wants to play, but he's altogether too rough for the baby at the moment.

It's amazing how cats don't bear a grudge.  Morgan has been so sweetly cuddling up to me and purring like a diesel this evening that I feel really treacherous, although I know it's for the best really.

John didn't go on Boys' Night Out tonight as he's got a job taking something to London tomorrow, leaving at about 3.00 am.  and the client wasn't able to let him have it until 10.00 pm.  They don't want much do they?

I suppose that means I shall have to wrestle with the London Congestion Charge website again tomorrow.  Sigh!
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Feeling quite good today, even though it's been a mouldy grey old day.

John was able to transfer some money to me and it's miraculously arrived in my account after only three days. Today I received a telephone bill wherein I found an overpayment with BT, the equivalent of a quarter's bill, which I have asked to be repaid, all without the intervention of a Real Human Being. I'm amazed at how good their mechanised telephone line is, although I suppose if anyone should get it right it should be them.

Enquiring further into the fuel suppliers, I find that we haven't had a bill since January. John rang them yesterday and they promised to put everything in the post today so that we can get it tomorrow. We'll see! They're apparently supposed to send us 6-monthly statements of account, but we haven't seen one since last January, so we've had no way of knowing what money they're holding if any. I'm appalled at the service and once it's sorted out, shall be looking for new suppliers. I'm a bit cross that John hasn't done anything about it, since it's one of his tasks ever since he decided we should swap suppliers. I agreed provided that he dealt with it all. It's not as if I haven't been complaining about the costs for several months, every time I see how much they've had out of my bank account every month, in fact! I shall get Charles to keep an eye on it in future; he's very conscious of us being hard up, and of what we spend and he loathes large corporations and is only too keen to find them wanting.

Yesterday I was in the kitchen doing something when a cat shot through the cat-flap and when I looked, I found it wasn't Bramble as I thought, but Morgan, who had finally taught himself how to do it. He spent a lot of the previous day lying on a pile of dirty laundry watching the other cats going in and out. He got so confident that later on Charles saw him launch himself through the cat-flap and slide across to the other side of the room on his bottom, unintentionally, we assume.

On Tuesday it was a nice day so in the afternoon we drove to Derwent reservoir, where I took some photographs.  The light was beautiful - there's something about autumn sun-light which transforms everything.  I also managed to walk further across the dam than I've been able to do for ages, although I did keep stopping to take photos.  It seems as though my self-imposed breathing exercises may be having some results!

It was brilliantly sunny, but incredibly cold so we only stayed for about an hour, which was just as well because I'd forgotten I had to collect a prescription till we were almost home and I'd run out of something important.


Tonight we're having fishcakes.  It's so long since I made any that I've consulted cookery books.  I think I'll go with Nigel's recipe.  I suppose I'd better go an cook the fish so that it will be cool enough to flake when I want to make the cakes.  I expect swarms of cats to enter the kitchen a couple of seconds after I unwrap the fish from the foil I put it in.
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We've been to the vet who visited the indignity of the rectal thermometer on Morgan.  He thinks he's probably had a cat bite which has become infected, although neither of us could find any wounds, and gave him an injection of anti-biotic for the bite and steroid to bring down the temperature. 

It was like magic;  before we'd even left the surgery Morgan had perked up and was flirting with the receptionist.  When we got home he was off - racing about just as normal.

Bramble, who was quite concerned when Morgan was feeling ill and who gave him a good licking all over is now chasing him all over the place and playing rough again, so I've separated them for a bit.  Morgan is eating like billy-o, making up for lost time, although he's vanished to his hidey-hole now for another sleep, presumably.

So, it seems that everything is OK, although we have to go back again tomorrow to be checked over. It's only cost £35.99!!  Thank you Bramble!

Hollow laughter!
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My poor little Morgan seems to be rather ill.  Most of yesterday and all of today so far he has hardly moved from my bed.  He spends most of the time asleep and he's eaten/drunk very little and only with a great deal of persuasion.  When I touch one of his back legs he cries out and tries to bite me.  I'm really worried that he may become dehydrated.

I have an appointment with the vet at 16.20, but I'm frantic and can hardly bear to wait that long.  What on earth can be wrong with him?
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Adrian-next-door's been here today taking out the radiator in the bathroom and installing a heated towel rail. He warned me that the towel rail wouldn't be very hot, but in fact it's so hot I can barely touch it.

We were talking about heating and I was telling him how high our fuel bills are. His are apparently about half the amount we pay by Direct Debit each month and his house is slightly larger. He says that as John is over 65, we may be eligible for some assistance with installing thermostatic radiator valves which I'm anxious to get done, and maybe even insulation board for the attic room ceilings. Apparently it's sometimes possible to get assistance replacing an ordinary combi boiler with a condensing boiler.

Although it's a rule in our house not to have the heating on until 1st. October, now we've actually had it on for Adrian to test the system, I've had to give in and say we can have it on this evening, otherwise I shall be the Bad Guy! I've turned it right down for when it comes on again. We had to have it on maximum while he checked the system and bled the radiators. All the radiators are working much more satisfactorily now. I wonder why it doesn't work like that when we bleed the radiators ourselves?

John is planning to finish the tiling tomorrow and put back things which have become displaced. We only need the door painted and the blind put up and it will finally be Finished!

I'm already planning my candlelit inaugural bath, with fluffy new towels for afterwards, but I need to get some nice smelly candles. Now! How to get some lovely relaxing music in there?

Morgan's been going stir-crazy because I've had to keep him locked up with me so that he couldn't make a complete nuisance of himself and get lost behind the skirting board. About half an hour ago he made a bid for freedom and managed to get out of the back door. I don't really want him out there till he's had his second lot of inoculations on Tuesday and even then Charles and I have agreed that until he's big and clever enough to use the cat-flap he can stay inside. I don't think it will be very long.

I'm feeling very tired today because Morgan kept me awake half the night galloping about, biting my fingers, licking my face (ugh! his breath is terrible!) and using my bag of recycling as a punch bag; then I had to be up and dressed bright and early to let Adrian in.

I thought he was going to bring his daughter to play with Morgan, but she didn't come.

Charles and I are fed up because again there's nothing on TV. We don't want to watch it all day and all night like some people do, but we would like to be able to find something to watch. Half an hour a week of French and Saunders, some of which is old stuff is just not good enough.

I've just remembered that Ugly Betty is starting again this week!  Hurrah!

Oh well! I suppose I ought to go down and make the spaghetti bolognese for tonight's dinner.
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I didn't get to the garden centre over the weekend, as I seemed to be paralysed by exhaustion. This breathlessness seems to be getting worse; I'm beginning to be a bit frightened that it won't ever go away and I shall be left like this for the rest of my life.

Mind you, part of the exhaustion is from looking after a frighteningly active kitten. I don't remember Bramble being quite so energetic. He and the kitten spend a large part of the day playing chase and poor old Bramble (all of 17 months) just can't keep up with the kitten, who whizzes past him at a little below the speed of light and disappears behind or beneath a piece of furniture where Bramble who is a very sturdy cat, just cannot go. When Bramble does catch him, however, he pins him to the floor with one heavy paw and proceeds to bite him all over, not hard enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to make the kitten cry. However, I've discovered that he can make the most piteous save-me-from-being-murdered noises for something as trivial as being picked up for a couple of seconds' inspection when he doesn't feel like it.

We've had a family discussion about the kitten's name. John doesn't like the name "Arthur" at all and the kitten shows no sign of recognising it. We've all been puzzling about it for days and we've finally all agreed to give him the illustrious name of Morgan. Morgan was my beloved first cat, my most favourite cat of all time, and the one who loved me the most. The name was also given to my second black cat, who also really loved me but who was a complete pain in the rear, although endearingly comical and naughty.

Really the kitten should be black as the first two were, but as John said, being white with black patches, he does look as though he's been down the pit.

Bramble has rediscovered an appetite for kitty milk, so I've had to go out today and buy a large sized can of powder. I was a bit miffed to find it only a little more than half full! Even haughty Phoebe has had a mouthful from time to time!

As I sit here triping, Morgan is fast asleep on my bed lying on top of the new toy I bought him today, while Bramble is fast asleep behind the chair I'm sitting in, snoozing in the cat basket which he has eschewed ever since we first had him. Morgan doesn't sleep in it, preferring to snuggle up with me at night, or sleeping where he drops during the day, but Bramble may be working on the principle that whatever he's got possession of the kitten can't have. Phoebe has never slept in it, either, except when she stayed in cat prison when we went to Scotland three years ago. She maintains a dignified aloofness towards Morgan, but she is very interested in him and watches with amazement as the other two career around the place fighting and cursing.

Despite being really tired after his long Friday driving to Bristol and getting back at midnight, John finished the tiling in the bathroom yesterday, because Adrian is coming back on Saturday to take out the radiator and install the heated towel rail. When that's done, apart from the towel ring and the magnetic soap-holder I'm getting from Amazon, he has only to put up the blind and it will be finished. I can't believe that after all the places I looked online for a blind in the right colour, and how expensive and unsuitable they all were, I finally found exactly what I wanted for a rock-bottom price (less Old Codgers' discount) from B&Q!

We haven't got any grab-rails yet, but that's because I can't find any which I don't find aesthetically offensive. I don't see why we have to have ugly things just because I've become disabled.

Tomorrow John has a 5.00 am start to go to Coventry where he's to collect something to be returned up here, so I shall have to make Charles come to Aldi's with me as I have to get cold meat and stuff for sandwiches. I'm absolutely sick of having to have a companion when I go out;  I really hope that the cardiologist can come up with something to improve my condition. 

I always get cold meat at either Aldi or Lidl, because they have a much better selection that Morrison's, and it's all much cheaper, and probably better quality.  It's also an opportunity to get some cheap winter-flowering plants for a patio pot.

I'm hoping they will still have one of those things you plug into the socket between an appliance and the plug and which measures how much electricity the appliance is using.  I've started guiltily using the oil-filled radiator in the sitting-room when we're going to be in that room in the evening and I really want to know whether it's as economical as I hope it is, because our fuel bills have become horrendous and fairly worrying.

Goodness!  Morgan has just woken up and approached a sleeping Bramble curled up in the cat-bed, but when I said "No" very firmly, he wandered off!   Bramble has since woken up himself and is eying Morgan in a calculated manner.  I suppose they're going to start racing about noisily now that I want to go to sleep!  I daren't lock them out, just in case Bramble really does murder Morgan!

False alarm!  Bramble has gone back to sleep, while Morgan is sitting on my bed playing with his toy.

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June 2009

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