Post 278: A Palace quote and MPR.
Although I have, on a daily basis, a huge quantity of pain relief drugs, I’m suffering with MPR.
No, you’re wrong. MPR isn’t my brother-in-law’s Massive Preoccupation with Rovers — although it’s true that for the last 40 years he and Big Sis have suffered — but the more serious made-up condition I’m suffering with lately, which is Muscular Pain Relay.
MPR is my daily dose of pain roulette whereby each muscle in my back, shoulder, arm and neck take it in turns to be the worst in this relay of pain.
I’m sure in time MPR will be added to the medicinal journals as a condition of post-chemo patient decay that only happens to over-dramatic bloggers that are slightly off their heads with morphine.
But it is a fact that every day a different muscle screams and shouts the loudest in a chain of events that drains my mind and body and makes me wonder, in the evenings when retiring, what muscle will be screaming in the morning.
Today it’s the right side of my neck at the back. Boy, oh boy, it hurts. I’m going to need some oramorph again today, which is somewhat of an irritation. Why me, and why me every day?
Sometime in the future, I’ll have written a thesis on MPR and allow the world of pain to have another stupid acronym. That would liven up the sage doctors’ plethora of words to confuse us patients. As if it wasn’t bad enough suffering from pain relay every day, to be given an acronym would be the cherry on the icing on the cake.
Talking of icing, I noticed the Christmas cake icing is getting very hard to cut just now.
Yes, we have cake left — of course we have. I take a smaller and smaller piece of cake each time I have some, now that well over half the cake is eaten. But the last quarter of the cake which has the last bit of the rice-paper topper on it, is very hard to slice through. This is very important because cake without, or with too much icing, just isn’t right. Just like Christmas cake without a cup of tea is also very wrong.
A bit like blokes in women’s clothing at a New Year’s pantomime is not quite right. It’s unsettling and, while slightly amusing, only certain men can carry it off sufficiently well to make it funny.
Yes, you’ve guessed it — we were at the panto last night. Nearly three hours of hearty fun to sweep away the January blues. Treasure Island was the core plot and some of the stage presence and voices were truly smashing, while some of the comic timing left a lot to be desired. However, it was an amateur presentation and I did know at least two of the actors, and the ensemble did carry the story well. Oh no they didn’t!
On the whole, and as it was a treat from my Darling, I enjoyed it way more than she did. But as she doesn’t do comedy because she’d rather be scared out of her wits than scarred for life, I was always going to like it more.
There was a moment of ad-lib genius, when Long John Silver turned to the audience after an untimely dance interlude came to an end and no one on stage took up the next line, he said,
“And now back to the script…” (pregnant pause) then said, “if anyone can remember it,” which was actually hilarious.
It scores a brave 6/10, but well done the players for trying so hard— and on the first night too.
———
We both meant to, and did, have a very lazy day today as we had nothing to do until the evening, as you’ve already found out. But during our easy day I did have a few things on the go whilst my eyes were open, including checking my ever-falling bank balance, now being propped up by the new benefits that are rolling in. This is a reason to be cheerful — but not part three (as Ian Dury once coined). But I am cheerful.
But that wasn’t what I was thinking of. What I was thinking of was the travel agent quote for a week’s stay in Tenerife. It’s a place I’ve not been to yet, and as the quote was somewhat pricey I was wondering about the possibility floundering. However, the pal that goes there twice a year and says it’s the best one he and his partner like the most — who am I to argue? I trust him.
I passed along the message to my Darling by text, wherever she was in the house, and waited for her pronouncement.
Meanwhile I was send a link of a podcast of a Brit who lives over there in Tenerife, down the road, having a look around this smart hotel called the Mediterranean Palace. I gave the sideways white triangle a press and heard a fast-talking guy showing me around this immense hotel and all its glories. But the first thing I gathered was that it was a five-star 
️️️️️ hotel.
Oh, I thought, that might be one of the reasons for the expense of the quote.
I watched a bit but it was getting on for panto time, so I’ll make a better stab at it tomorrow. In fact, after the counselling we could head to town to sit and arrange this holiday a little more at the travel agents.
I’ve a need to use my new passport, so we have to find something somewhere, don’t we?
After all that fun today we were tired bunnies after getting home from the theatre, so a late night it was that we had. We will sleep well.
And a very good night to you too.
