Well first of all many thanks to all you lovely lot who cared about me while I've been in hospital. I hadn't planned on going in, it just sort of
happened a week ago yesterday. I had spent the previous 2 nights having shivering fits and then found I couldn't stand up. Quite scary but, I hope, sorted now. I just have to keep taking the tablets and breathing the puffers.
But if I thought Keith might waste away from me not being there to do the housewifely things, I soon thought again. He first of all came to visit boastng about what he made for his lunch that day
For the uninitiated, we call this Toad in the Hole; the very best Lincolnshire sausages cooked in Yorkshire Pudding. Would this be
Fusion Food?
And here's how it looked on the plate...............
I know this was just dished up with some new potatoes and a tin of peas and gravy made with gravy granules - but let's not be snobby about this plate of food; I would have killed for it!!!! I wonder what happened to the rest of it?
Nothing daunted, when he visited next day THIS is what he'd made:
Which became THIS
Then THIS
AND FINALLY................
Cottage pie topped off with a thick layer of cheddar cheese.
And he didn't stop there! Oh no! He arrived one afternoon carrying a beautiful Victoria Sponge cake with buttercream and strawberry jam, the like of which many a W.I. lady would wish they had made. Have an ogle at this it's all that's left after we all had a bit). I've seen neater but I've not had tastier.
He even brought some picnic plates!
No secrets in hospital are there? Everybody and his wife and dog wants to know your date of birth. Apparently it's supposed to be some guard against getting the wrong patient. Well let me just tell you, all you get on your wristband these days is your name, NHS number, date of birth and barcode. So if there's all the required information there already what's in the barcode? Eh, Eh?
Another thing you have to announce to the world is whether or not you've 'had your bowels opened' today, which is nurse-speak for 'have you been to the toilet?', 'have you done a number 2?'. Thankfully, you don't have to provide evidence.
And all the health and safety they have to think about these days. No flowers on the ward any more. Oh no, someone might be allergic or have hay fever. Patients can't read the newspaper because the paper boy can't go on the ward now for fear his filthy cargo might import some MRSA or something. You can have mucky old visitors as long as they clean their hands with those squirty things outside the ward door. THEIR HANDS indeed, as if that's the muckiest thing about them. Strictly speaking Keith shouldn't have shared that cake out but as some of the nurses had a bit as well that would cancel out any ill-effects. It must have been more by luck than design that we were all OK
And they are prevented by law from restraining anybody, even if it's for their own good like, presumably. stopping them falling out of bed.
I think I'm sorriest about the flowers. Everywhere is so drab without flowers.