PS

No Lars in Stockholm . The physiocentre was exactly where we left it two years ago, with exactly the same 'stretching cat' sign. And I saw Lars, in fact he held ze door oppen fur me. But alas, alack, o woe, they were booked out for Friday and closed all weekend. I put up a gentle fight "oh but you were so helpful last time, we've come all the way from Australia COUNTING on your help, I'm sorry (says M) my wife has been drooling for days about this...." but no luck. Damn. Whimper...

Reaching SILENT SCREAM status..!!

I've been trying to make bookings through the Tiger Airlines (domestic) site, and not only have I failed, but the b@st@rds have LOCKED my credit card.  Because I kept trying to make the payment by pressing AUTHORISE and it kept going boinnngg! and going "ner-ner we won't let you.."....

Which means that A) purrfect dorter doesn't have flights booked for next week, when she's bravely offered to visit us to help with our pre-overseas trip nervous breakdowns, and B) I have to wrangle my credit union tomorrow morning AS WELL AS the eleventy other things I need to do.

Sheesh.

And, waaah, I had three jabs today, so I have three sore limbs.  That leaves one hip to lie on, but not the matching arm.  Could be interesting finding the correct painless pretzel-position in bed tonight!  I had a shot of cortisone into my right hip, which has bursitis or somesuch ow-ey joint problem.  Couldn't be identified on the ultrasound, but as the pressure of the ultrasound thingy was making me yip and leap about on the bed, they observed that it was 'fairly tender' and agreed to do the deed.  Then we charged off to the gp for typhoid shots (going to Bangkok first), and a HepB booster for me cos my immune system (which is usually a very dodgy opurration) seems to have eaten up those antibodies and doc says I needs more.  The practice nurse offered to give us tetanus boosters as well, and was quite keen to give M a pneumovax jab, but fortunately she checked with the doc and he said a very firm no.  Thankyou Saint Steve!

Yesterday our plans for the doing of things was thrown right out of the window when a friend, who came to have lunch, was so ill with side-effects of new and vital medication, that I insisted on driving her home.  She could hardly walk, hardly speak, but on a very wet and dingy day seemed to think she'd be orright driving quite a long way home.  Nope.  I couldn't let her go.

We got a few things achieved, but it was so upsetting to see her in such distress that we kind of found ourselves in Tilleys on the way home, having nice comforting (large) glasses of wine and gins and tonics.  That wrote off the evening quite nicely!  Today's attempt was kind of scuttled by the jabs, which left me needing a nanna nap, zzzzzzzz.  And wrangling airlines is really not very much fun.  Growl growl.  And yes, I am still composing the letter to Mr Branson about our Cairns-Brisbane-Canberra debacle.  Mostly I'm removing adjectives.  It's not safe to send yet.

The purrfume of the day is just the Prada I put in my hair last night.  I was too crumpled and dribbly, when getting ready at the cracked dawn to get to a 9am appointment to have something sharp and nasty done to me.  Perhaps I'll sleep in some Chanel No. 5 Huile Sensual, yes that's a good idea.

Tomorrow I have to look at pavers and pick up my other new specs (which I hope might be the style my father finally approves of.  He's my style guru but I rarely get the paternal nod of approval).  And we must get to the tailor and the chemist and the bra shop and the backpack shop and shit I forget what else.  I think I'll have to change the physio appt for the third time this week, which is probably driving them mad.  Oh yes, because I made the physio time too close to the end of gym.  Heh - do you know how alien that sentence is to my real life??  

Heh.

Data days...

Today?  Back to back appointments for the care and control of the careful but uncontrollable body.  Dentist for hours, having part one of a crown (who knew one could achieve principalities just by lying back and going OW?).  Nice dentist, very fetching yellow chair.  Everything else less entertaining, although at one point Stuart said "are you ok?" and I said "yes of course, I'm just singing songs in my head, but your drill is out of tune...".

The physio said "Have I told you about the tennis-ball-into-the-butt exercise?"  How to answer THAT?  I said no, but she forgot to demonstrate before I left.  I am perhaps not so sad about this!

Now I am ringing up unsatisfactory home-assistance services, like T#lstra, the cleaners, the garden dudes, who have all PROmised they'll ring, and PROmised they'll turn up, etc etc.  Fibbers and skivers the lot of them.  I managed to extract times and dates from the cleaners.  Purrhaps they felt sorry for me after I mentioned that we have switched from sweeping to raking in the kitchen... 

The garden dudes should return soon to continue to remove archaeological layers of mulch in the gutters and rain it down on my unsuspecting garden beds.  I see this as quite a positive thing - apart from stopping water backing up under the eaves and frying our outside lights, this will be their extra added nutrient for the next six months.

And now, just to top myself off, so to speak, it's time to visit the counsellor for my regular vent, moan, whimper, snort and snuffle.  I haven't had time to have lunch, wash my hair, hang out the clothes, or anyfink.  I want to say fark this and sit in front of a fire, knitting bobbles.  I only learnt how to do that yesterday so it's a funky fun subject right now.

Oh well.  Life does go ON, doesn't it?...