under another sun

So off up to Paddington today, to start a new and quite lengthy four day a week stint. Unfortunately I had an unexpected flare up of prostatitis. Stealthy doctor phone calls. Doctor agreed to see me first thing tomorrow. If I became unable to pee at tall (prostatitis can interfere with this kind of thing) then I had to take myself A and E. All this not the ideal backdrop to a first day. People there so pleased to see me and friendly that quite enjoyed the day despite this. I've been parachuted into an account that needs help and the clients are a bit huffy. But I can sort this out, and it felt fine to be back (Paddington is bearable). Quite late home, and walked back from Brighton station. Reading Jane's book on the train. Lorraine had Dawn, Angie and Sarah around having a women's night in. I said howdy, squeezed Lorraine, and left them to it. After a few bits on the computer, I went upstairs to iron shirts. It was International day of Women today. The ticker tape scree...

Snowing.  Luckily I had nowhere to travel, and was working by eight at my desk. Stayed manacled there till noon, completing the pesky but interesting freelance job before sending it into cyberspace. Finding concentration a bit hard as prostatitis taking advantage of the lull in antibiotics. After three hopeful days of feeling better than I had done for some time, the old enemy is at the gates again. Trying not to be downcast about this, and am hoping the diagnostic operation is not too many months away. Afternoon more relaxed. Lorraine working at home in the afternoon, after long cross county drives were cancelled. This in from Richard in Guernsey, which was on the news this morning, for its unprecedented snow: 'looking out into the garden where the palms and tree branches are practically horizontal because of the on-shore wind howling in from the bay, which is only about two hundred metres away from us. There's sleety snow coming in and the bird feeders and water bowl hav...

And Lo! In the small hours I had the unbounded joy of a reasonably normal wee. The antibiotic cavalry had arrived in the nick of time to, um, major relief. In the morning I unpacked the manbag I'd prepared for hospital and as the day progressed things slowly but steadily improved. The thing about recovering is the joy simple things give you. Lorraine and I gingerly walked in the park, which was like being freed from prison. We also went to Sainsbury's to buy the fixings for the pies that were forming in Lorraine's mind: a goat's cheese, spinach and potato tart, then a chicken, ham, leek and tarragon pie. This was a communal effort with Betty being sous chef, and me reading the recipes out. The result was without a doubt the finest chicken and ham pie I've ever eaten. Also chatted with First Matie for the first time in ages, who had what sounds like the happiest Christmas for years being with her niece, brand new nephew, sister new brother in law and his family. ...

A new year full of cheer I hope. Frankly it can only improve.  My choice on the first day of the year, was between having a catheter rammed up the old chap by a random Locum doctor in the hospital, knee-deep in the human debris of a Brighton New Year. Or risk my bladder exploding and drowning Lorraine, Betty the cats and myself in a piss tsunami. I opted for the second route, and luckily I was able to squeeze out just enough wee to prevent this catastrophe. Meanwhile the flu is still hanging on like grim death, and my lungs at night sound like the devil's accordion. My fantasies have become pathetic: longing to be able to sit in a cafe in Brighton and have a cup of tea is one. Lorraine who is thankfully gradually improving from the flu, went off to see Dawn, lately returned from New Zealand, and now installed in her new flat, for brunch. I was bought a delicious breakfast muffin back. Betty, Lorraine and I then lay about watching past episodes of The Great British B...

Working hard on the business book and making some good progress, but generally feeling sorry for myself as my prostatitis seems to be returning - the antibiotics appear only to subdue it. It is gloom-inducing and makes every day a struggle. Enjoyed a walk in the icy wind this afternoon after I'd been working for many hours. Low sun striping the park with shadows, went to the walled garden and my regular haunt looked boxlike as all the screens of planting had died away, with only the pampas grass standing proud. Looked into the square fishpond, and saw the shoal of gold and black goldfish clearly as the waterlilies had gone. Couldn't help anthropomorphising and thinking how cold they must be as they appeared to cringe in the centre of the pond. A very cheery evening spent in The Shakespeare's Head, forking down their excellent gourmet sausages and mustard mash with Lorraine, Anton, Cath and Rosie. Also joined by Matt and Wayne. Several beers drunk and I felt distinctly c...

A moanday Woken by the kitten dancing about my head at 6:30. Why has it decided that 6:30 is the time we get up in our house and not 7:00 is a mystery. Anyway the good news is that I was working by 7:30 with, rather gallingly, Calliope dozing next to my laptop. Today was a proper Moanday. I felt dull and cooped up. Writing about erection problems next to a window dripping with grey rain. Being paid is of course splendid so I kept thinking about the money. At one point dived out into the spitty rain to go to the back cracker. Then off to buy rooibos (redbush) tea, which Lorraine introduced me to the other day. It's caffeine free and tastes very nice. And it's claimed it has health benefits including (I just learned) soothing prostatitis. This is good news as I have had prostatitis for several weeks. And am taking antibiotics for it. Prostatitis is rubbish, and makes you feel tired all the time. But far worse than prostatitis, however, is hearing myself constantly moaning about m...