Bren sprays the Mac door hinges with WD40 and looks in after a long time away.

A truly sad event prompted me into logging in to mac. Alan and I met a few times, along with Reneesha for pub meals and enjoyed a couple of nice afternoons solving the problems of the world and pondering on the choices between ice cream or apple pie. A close neighbour of mine lost her husband after a marriage of about 50 years and I still remember her comment to me about him - "He was a good man" so simple and eloquent but saying everything it needs to. My impression of Alan was that he was also "A good man"

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Reading back on my previous blog entry I see that I mentioned the tale of the hernia and a visit for the 6 monthly peep at my bladder, next insertion of the lubricated camera is in 2 weeks time, I have no undue fears about it so fingers, but unfortunately not legs, crossed. Do you know the inside of my bladder looks like Gollum. But an update on the state of play with other matters medical for you:

My Gastroenteroligist sent me for various tests, including an ECG and a treadmill test, in my cynical view to save his budget if he could fob me off somewhere else rather than operate. After having the ECG I was told by a rather nice doctor that I wouldn't be having the treadmill test because they had found a problem with my heart, yes I know that the old hands are thinking I haven't got one and it's a swinging brick. So, numerous appointments later I am sat in front of a Cardioligist, the conversation went something like this.

"When did you have your heart attack?"

"I haven't had one"

"Yes you have"

"No I haven't"

"I'm looking at this graph and I'm telling you that you have"

As it turns out it they say that the problems I was having on the day of my last cystoscopy weren't associated with hernia and/or flu but I was in the middle of a heart attack. So I am loaded up with tablets for this, tablets for that, tablets for the other, sprays for something else, the list goes on and on. I had an angiogram last week and now have to go to another hospital in Manchester for some nuclear tests (or nucolour if you're George Bush) to see if it's surgery or pasture for me. But for a lovely change the nurses on the ward where I was last week were more Cheryl Cole than Ann Widdicombe, quite made my heart flutter, which possibly wasn't a clever move by the NHS, they should be preventing things not causing them.

Because so much time elapsed since the attack I am still allowed to drive and I now have my blue badge as well, it raises some eyebrows when I slap it on the dashboard of the coach and leave it parked on the road. I was thinking of really causing a storm by getting a white stick and walking up, getting in and driving off.