It's a cat's life

JP says I mustn't sack the cleaner, even though she arrived an hour and a half late (doctor's appointment). So instead of her marching orders I gave her a cup of tea. She is trying to distance herself from Sweet Smiley Boyfriend. The Home Office have helped with this by moving him to Heathrow.

Chemotherapy is meant to be cumulative (each bout leaves you feeling that little bit worse), but if anything I've felt better this cycle than the first one, the only side-effects being fleeting fatigue and an eye infection. Third dose is next Wednesday so we'll see if this trend continues.

After four months of enforced leisure, I'm starting to get just a teeny bit restless. I even contacted work to see if I could do some bits and bobs from home. Can't go into the office - too many bugs - but could do stuff remotely if systems allow. Not sure how much there is to do though because the Government is closing us down.

Oscar, on the other hand, has no qualms coping with a life of langour. He has been in this position most of the day.

The boat that rocked

We took Sally Slipknot for a little sail at lunchtime out to Shardlow. Here she is looking serene in the sunshine.

It wasn't always so. We bought her a year ago from a geezer with a lot of home-made tattoos. He advised us how to avoid mooring fees by moving on every two weeks.

Perhaps the name should have been an indication. Slipknot - called after the thrash metal band of the same name. When we phoned up to register ownership there was a long pause on the other end of the line then the man from British Waterways said: "Slipknot. We know that boat well."

Turns out she'd had several ASBOs.

We also noticed that whenever we went anywhere in her we got hailed loudly by certain other river-users. Usually the ones you hear long before their boats come into view.

"I've had some times on Slipknot!" one said wistfully. Seems she was a party boat!

Her life may be dull by comparison now but at least she has loving parents and a nice secure marina to call home.

The conundrums of a cosmic cleaner

We hired a cleaner to help make life easier through my recovery. She turned up, larger than life, and blitzed the place. She can come again, we thought. Since then, it's been like this:

Week one: She corners me in the kitchen with tell me about her love-life. She married a China-man, but didn't love him. She loved an Iranian, but couldn't be with him. She divorced, and is now in love with a Nigerian, who's gone back to his wife, so she's waiting for him. In the meantime she's dating another Nigerian.

Week two She tells me she's a medium and talks to the dead. It doesn't surprise me - I guess they, like me, are a captive audience. I'd rather she didn't conjure up any ghosts in my house though. She says the Dyson will do her an injury so she brings her own Henry.

Week three: The first thing she says on arrival is: "I could kill me sister.." I sense a drama coming on and decide to absent myself. More cleaning gets done that way.

Week four: No show due to illness. Fair enough.

Week five: She brings a friend. Double trouble? More like Buy One Get One Free. They do twice as much cleaning for the price of one.

Week six: No show. Car broken down. Fair enough, but I wonder if she may be unreliable. We decide to give her one more chance.

Week seven: She brings her sweet Nigerian boyfriend. He's very shy and smiley but he doesn't mind the Dyson. Makes a good job of the hoovering.

Week eight: She is fascinated by Charlie, the artist, and stays a while after her shift to watch him work.

Week nine: (this week). Shows up late. Sweet smiley boyfriend has been arrested. He's currently in an immigration detention centre.

The saga continues. Watch this space .....

It is nice to have clean windows and dusted surfaces.

Any fool can wear a white coat

Just been to see my oncologist who was mysteriously absent so they sent someone from the subs bench out instead. Someone who appears to have missed out on her basic training.

After telling me I was 'fine' she said: "have we taken a blood sample from you today?"

I told her they'd done one yesterday and should by now have the results, hence the purpose of my visit. She went away to find them, came back and told me once more I was 'fine'. Begs the question - how did she know the first time if she hadn't looked at the results?

She also asked me if I had my next chemo booked in. I told her it's tomorrow, hence the purpose of my visit.*

Not sure she even knew who I was let alone how I was.

Not convinced she knew what she was doing .....

She finished off with: "You're fine.. off you go," and with an exaggerated flurry of the hand, dismissed me.

Some doctors are almost autistic in their lack of people skills. Actually that's unkind to people with autism.

Meanwhile the World Cup may be over but not in our street. Someone's bought the neighbour's kids a vuvuzela. It'll be b flat major all summer..



* Before each chemo you go for blood tests then see the oncologist to get the results and check you are fit for the next chemo.

Angry middle-aged woman

To Messrs Cameron, Osborne (and Clegg),

It was NOT the public sector that caused 'this mess' NOR was it the Labour Government, it was your mates in the financial sector.

Penalise them, not us!

Attack the Civil Service at your peril. In so doing you are biting the hands that feed you. You need someone to implement your policies, such as they are. You will need someone to clear up your mess after the big bonfire is over.

It seems to me that you have come in, taken a superficial look at what's around, and decided to slash and burn all that you see. Anything built up by your predecessors must go.

And that is fine, because you wouldn't know what it's like to try to teach - or learn - in a crumbling classroom. I don't suppose that happened at Eton.

Coalition, my arse! This lot are more right-wing than Thatcher. Anyone who voted Lib Dem to keep the Tories out must be feeling well pissed off.

I think we should take to the streets, like they're doing in France, and bring this bunch of amateurs down. Give 'em a long hot summer of protest and see what they're made of.

Rant over! I feel better now. Have not felt this incensed about politics since the 1980s!

Yesterday

I didn't take my medication.

I didn't do my exercises.

I drank too much wine.

And a Tory Toff walked into Downing Street.

I am nostalgic for '97, when things could only get better...