No, I doubt Ghostbusters would be much help. Although possibly more so than the NHS.
Over the past few days, my breathing has been getting steadily worse; I now can't move around the house or climb one flight of stairs without breathlessness.
I've finally faced the fact I need help. Judy's trying to get some.
We may have left it too late.
Scared.
Do you ever wonder how many trees had to die so that people could avoid giving us a direct answer? Got cancer? Here's a leaflet. Going into hospital? Here's another leaflet. Diet problems, money worries ... leaflet, leaflet, leaflet. My cancer folder is so full of leaflets, I can barely lift it.
And you know what? I haven't read a one of them. I'm too tired, too sick and too confused to wade through a sea of…
I was much surprised Sunday morning, when I got up and opened the back door, to find the ShadowCat outside it, as he was in when I went to bed. I could only assume that he had found a portal through time and space, dematerialised, or - more worryingly - jumped out of my bedroom window, a two-storey drop. (He has been known to jump out of my study window, but the porch roof is under that, so it's two one-storey drops…
Yesterday got off to an overly dramatic start: *hunting growl* said one of the cats, and then vanished under my bed and made thumping noises for some time. "I hope that's not what I think it is," I thought but, of course, it was: when I went to look, there was a dead mouse! on my bedroom floor!
I know most cat owners are used to this sort of thing, but I've never been much good at it. I managed to get…
I didn't really take my dog. I don't have a dog. And it wasn't that early, either, I got up around 8.30. But I was really tired, and could have stayed in bed all morning.
Instead, I went to give a blood sample at the surgery - which went off without mishap, this time - and then Judy drove me to the Churchill to talk to the people at the Maggie's Centre about benefits. That was a bit of a waste of time:…
