29 March 2011

Posted by DMC on 30 March 2011 in Diary |

My apologies to my readers. My blog has been down for the last couple of days. I thought it was something to do with routine maintenance by the server but, according to my good friend, Richard Morris, who is the administrator of this site, it may have been something to do with a corrupt file, or just as likely that I stupidly pressed the wrong key somewhere.. In any event we are now back in business.

We were blessed yesterday with another one of those very beautiful English spring days. Even more so from my point of view as it was the geriatric golf day at Worlington and I was able to pay a visit to the club with the usual buggy ride for nine holes, alternately driven by John Stevens and Griggsy, then lunch with a bunch of old pals. As usual, Scott and Barry between them were marvellous in manoeuvring me from car to wheelchair and. In the dining room, John Fellows (Lord de Ramsey) assumed the role of nanny and fed me when my arms got tired. These outings really cheer me up enormously even though I cannot participate in the golf , except, of course, in my mind and watching my friends play. I seem to know every mistake, they have or are going to, make! As I said before I haven’t missed a single putt or chip for a couple of years, but then when I was actually playing, why was it not as easy as it appears to be to me now?!

Althea came this afternoon to do my nails and then I watched the end of the New Zealand. the Sri Lanka quarter-final of the World Series cricket. A fairly predictable result with Sri Lanka going through to the final.

‘My lovely’ picked up a prescription for me, this afternoon, from the local surgery and at the same time was given a rather alarming looking kit called Just in Case. Heaven knows who ordered it or why, it all sounds rather alarming. It is rather like the time I came round from my radical prostatectomy operation only to find the local vicar standing by the side of the bed. As it turned out it was a social call but my first thoughts were that he had come to read the last rites, perhaps like Bertrand Russell, he was hoping for a deathbed conversion. I would much rather be remembered for my last words like King Edward VII, (I hope I got the right King) iwho at the time was being asked about Bognor, with his last breath, apparently, he said. “Bugger Bognor.” We will have to check with Mary, the continuing care assessor, who was probably responsible, not for what the king said of course, but for the Just in Case box..

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