Visiting Ken

Guts poor still, and feeling drained. I blame myself for drinking wine yesterday. Up early, nevertheless, working on the strange story I started, and also trying to piece together fragments of the opera from Helen's notes, which isn't proving easy.

Then off at lunchtime to Janet's place, where I met her pal Madeleine again. Janet and I then into a rather boneshaking jalopy of a taxi up to Haywards Heath. Here we went to the Princess Royal hospital, where Ken is. A nice ward, the Ansty (which I obviously made Antsy in my head) with a beautiful views across green lands to the Downs. Ken in reasonably good spirits, although not sure where he was, but was able to sit up and eat. His knee problem is somewhat better, but after being there for a few hours we were told before leaving that he would have to have an exploratory bladder op tomorrow.  Staff pleasant enough, but it seems the two teams that have been treating him don't communicate very well.

Good to see Ken though. I am very fond of Ken indeed. It was good to support Janet for the day too. It has to be said, however, that hospitals remain my least favourite places.

Pleased to be home, and sharply reminded of not taking simple pleasures like an evening chatting with Lorraine for granted.