There was an enormous fire at an industrial estate down the road last night, quite a spectacle. R Next Door thought we were all going to die, and kept ringing my bell, banging on the door, and phoning (my switched-off mobile) 'I wanted to save-your poor little creature'. (She's still afraid of getting over-familiar with Moon.) I heard none of this, and sat gaping at BIG BROTHER. I didn't even smell it, due to being bunged up. Damn, that's a bit scary. I would have liked to look, too.
R was also kind enough to remind me yet again that I 'looked healthier before that terrible operation. Yew had not one wrinkle...*Sigh*' What would yew have been like if yew had never fucked up your body with medication and bad NHS treatment?'
In a wheelchair, probably, or if I hadn't taken thyroxine for the last 40 years, maybe a zombie, or even dead, I ventured...'I think yew are also more grumpy since yew lost weight.' Groan.
When I got to the nurse (nearly an hour's wait past my appointment time-) for the B12 shot, she commented on my 'nasty chesty cough' and said I should get antibiotics. I told her I've only had it a few days. I'd really like to avoid taking them too often.
Saw a very interesting documentary about WW1 artist/writer David Jones, author of IN PARENTHESIS, which I'd actually never heard of !
