VIRGIN MAFIA - A Tale of Media Piracy

 

A Tale of Media Piracy

 Over the past three years, since my wife went into a nursing home, I had tried unsuccessfully to change the name on the Virgin Media contract from that of my wife to my own. After my wife passed away two days before Christmas Day, I contacted the bereavement team at Virgin Mafia, on 8^th January, who changed the name on the account on the understanding that the contract which was valid until August 2026 would remain in place. On that contract I was paying £59.39 per month.

I was somewhat surprised when through the postal service I received, on 8 January, a new contract to sign agreeing to pay £71+ per month. I refused to sign this contract and returned it explaining the reasons in the Business Reply Envelope supplied. On going into the Virgin Media website on on more than 4 0ccasions in the immediate aftermath, the multiple visits because I couldn’t believe my eyes on the initial occasion, I was informed in the most definite manner that my contract had ended. After several unsuccessful attempts to contact  a real human being at the media company, I sought an alternative supplier for my broadband needs. Rise Fibre agreed to supply a faster Fibre broadband router at a cost, initially, of £17.99 per month, no installation fee. A technician will install the new router next Wednesday, 21^st January.

This morning I received an email from Virgin Mafia informing me that, as I was thinking of switching to Rise, I should be aware that as I was still in contract with VM (sice when?) I would be liable to pay an early disconnection fee. In light of what has been happening over the past several days, proving quite injurious to the health of this octogenarian, I have no understanding of the magic by which they’ve found me to be in contract.

Are Virgin Media Bad for One's Health

 Feeling, angry, nauseous and bewildered owing to Virgin Media.

A recently bereaved octogenarian with health problems., I need a phone and broadband to get my medication, contacting carers etcetera but at present I’ve had to cancel my Direct Debit with VM as I was getting nowhere – they’ve tried before to fuck me up but this time they’re succeeding!

I can’t really decide whether Virgin Media are incompetent or dishonest. On the 08^th January this year,  after many attempts to make contact with a Human at Virgin |Media, I finally managed to change the name on my VM contract to mine, which I had been trying to do for the past three years since my wife went into a nursing home. On the 8^th January I was able to contact the bereavement team who  made the necessary change and informed me that I would remain on that contract, on which I paid £59.39 for broadband 125 and a telephone landline (now digital)

Today, through the mail I was asked to sign a new contract, the final digit of the original contract number having been altered from 1 to 2, and asking me to sign and return it. My wife passed away on 23 December 2025 and on 8 January 2026 I changed the name on my account from that of my wife to mine via your bereavement line. The contract does not expire unti August. The cost of the package is £59.39 per month.. Today you have mailed me a new contract saying my monthly charge will be £71.66 increasing to £75.66 in April. I REFUSE to sign this new contract. I wish they could either GET THEIR ACT TOGETHER or try being honest and replacing detatched robotic voices on the telephone with real human contacts for a change.

My wife passed away on 23 December 2025 and around 8 January 2026 I changed the name on my account from that of my wife to mine via your bereavement line. The contract does not expired unti August. The cost of the package is £59.39 per month.. Today you have mailed me a new contract saying my monthly charge will be £71.66 increasing to £75.66 in April. I refuse to sign this new contract. Please get your act together."

Are Pharmacies usually inept?

 

Since last Friday, owing to the dilatoriness of my local #DayLewisPharmacy, I have been without my usual anxiolitics and twice per day beta blockers which were on a prescription I ordered from my GP on 20 August. From tomorrow morning I will be without my twice per day blood thinners. The pharmacy never answers phone calls and, yesterday I had to wait, discomfortedly, for over 30 minutes, in a queue to speak to the sole person at the desk in the pharmacy who thought the items would be received by them and delivered to me today. It is now 16.00 hours and they have not yet materialised. Today I have been quite light-headed and more unsteady on my feet than usual so, it came as no surprise that my blood pressure was riding extremely high. Can pharmacies be struck off for ineptitude, if so I have a nominee.

A FRAGMENT REDISCOVERED

 

Genuine NHS Dentist?

 

Genuine NHS Dentist

 

I’m just wondering if there is such a thing, in Harrogate, as a Dentist offering a real service for NHS clients.

 

Having been with my current practice since the 1990’s the situation is that I had a routine inspection on 11 July this year when the dentist found I needed three fillings, in some cases repairs to previously filled teeth. The earliest appointment they could offer was 11 October. Exactly three months on from the examination. Two months after this appointment was made I received a phone call, from the dental practice, informing me that, as the dentist would be away ar the time my appointment was due, it would have to be rearranged for 10 December (five months after the inspection).

 

In the meantime I have experienced shards of enamel breaking from both front and back of one of the teeth that required attention. The practice who are supposedly proffering a dental service for me, at present , are North Park Dental Practice.

A transformative event

 

Just wish I could find a pre-emptive strategy for these sudden onset bouts of painful exhaustion, it’s not as if I can lay the blame on over exertion. I’d had a quite lazy restful day today, apart from an unduly early morning waking, from my fitful slumbers, as the hound expressed an urgent need to utilize the garden! I was able to get back into bed within ten minutes but, it seemed like an eternity before I was able to resume my slumbers. When I did finally emerge from the duvet realm there seemed little option other than a very restful day.

 

Around 18.30 hours, a painful tiredness enveloped me; it’s almost impossible to determine which came first, the weary tiredness or the pains in upper limbs and feet. A not unfamiliar gnawing discomfort from the armpits served to induce feelings of nausea and a few shouted expletives caught the snoozing hound quite unawares, although he did quite quickly proffer me his paw and snuggled up closer to me. The discomfort dissipated, of its own volition(?) as I listened to Sibelius ‘The Wood Nymph’, at the opening of tonight’s Prom broadcast on BBC4 before I was fully awakened by the vocal dexterity of soprano Anu Komsi in a newly commissioned piece, from Laura Poe, ‘Laulut maaseudulta’.  The soprano’s performance reminded me of the excitement I felt when I first discovered Cathy Berberian’s vocal gymnastics in the 1960s. A transformative moment.

Wreckage & relief

This is a post I hastily scribbled down, primarily for my own benefit, several days ago. Having just stumbled across it again I thought it was maybe worth sharing 

            Wreckage & Relief 

 Where to begin, where should I have started in trying to understand my current drought of both emotional and physical stamina. The easy bit is accepting that we are psychosomatic beings, it’s pretty obvious that when one is physically, and not infrequently painfully, well below par it inevitably has an impact upon one’s emotional/mental sense of wellbeing.

 I’ve returned to a pattern of restless discomfited nights far outweighing any restful ones. I am fortunate that my combination of amitriptyline and tramadol about an hour before bedtime, (the efficaciousness of which has been reverse demonstrated on those occasions when I have omitted this cocktail, either accidentally or purposefully), still serves to keep full-blown restless legs at bay.

 Discomfort in armpits, elbows, wrists, feet and knees seem to come and go in quite random fashion both nocturnally and diurnally. On another level, reading has become difficult (once again in random fashion) as I seem to lose concentration after just a few lines and futilely return to the beginning. Emotionally, tears are erupting with very minor prompts such as hearing of the death of one time friends and comrades, even though I’ve not been in contact with them for some time. Listening to music, frequently makes me think of, not too far distant, times when I’d have been enjoying the same music or song with my beloved Helen, who of necessity has had to reside in a nursing home since January of last year, following a few years of severe physical and mental health problems. Those recalls are invariably of a bittersweet nature, and I find myself having to reach for the box of tissues.

 Much of what I’m experiencing is reminiscent of when I succumbed to moderate ME, back in the noughties, which led to my premature retirement from any formal wage-labour! 

 The attempt to write down my current physical/emotional state of being has somehow driven the darkest clouds a little bit further away. 

 Malcolm Evison 08/03/24

Advent Reflections - Golgotha Days

This year I spent considerable time on Advent readings and meditations, for some reason I've always found time for Lent studies but have somewhat overlooked approprate studies for the Advent season. What with having spent most of the past year alone, my beloved OH having been in Nursing Home care since January 2023, and an even more disheartening situation in the 'Holy Land'these studies didnot come easy but somehow, my seasonal reflections became a poem which I am now sharing with you:

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Proffering Thanks

 The abominable abdominals, that have taunted and haunted my bodily frame since Saturday evening, have settled down to their more familiar state of dis-ease.  Concurrently, a combination of paracetamol, tramadol, and Piper's empathetic behaviour, helped me through a couple of bouts of nausea-inducing, expletive producing, painful discomfort in the upper limbs and armpits. For this relief I proffer thanks. Gratitude makes one feel better, something I far too frequently forget!

PIPER

Poppy Day Dilemmas

 As both a Christian and a Socialist, I always have problems with the celebration of militarism otherwise known as Poppy Day. Whether or not I would have had sufficient strength of character to stand by my pacifist principles in extreme circumstances is something that used to cause me considerable concern but, there are also other issues involved.

Much soul searching was involved, even when I had attempted to renounce my Xtian faith and, subsequently joined a revolutionary socialist organization. Don't get me wrong, I was already a socialist when I became a Christian, and failed to see the apparent necessity of taking on the petty bourgeois pretensions & morality that seemed to be the norm for evangelicals those days and saw communism, in an idealistic sense, as being far more compatible with Christianity than capitalism.

I moved freely between and amongst various groupings of the left, dismayed by much of the ideological bickering; I did manage however to retain friendships, in spite of (doctrinal) difficulties with members of factional groupings other than the one for which I settled.Too many of my comrades seemed to revel in the prospect of a good rumble, one could almost sense them salivating at the prospect of a bloody uprising. I consoled myself with the thought that bloodshed, like class warfare, is generally instigated by the capitalist ruling class and therefore resistance to their unjust power structures, which could only be maintained by the use of force, became a moral imperative.

But what of turning the other cheek; to be honest that may be the only option when confronted with the combined might of military and police, should the true wealth creators, the working class, attempt to fight for a truly just and democratic society where real equality of opportunity for everyone in a society focussed on care for one's neighbour. Bear in mind that I use neighbour in the broadest sense, that of the parable of the good Samaritan not the cynicism of "charity begins at home". To turn the other cheek is an expression of disdain for the values of those who rule by force. I did decide,however, that if I was able to shake off the shackles of my religious faith I would be happy to take up arms in the cause of a workers revolution. At the same time I recognized that there was no way I could take up arms for Queen and country, the capitalist cause. A complex dilemma indeed; the message and life of Jesus had so firmly grasped me that I still felt guilty at my readiness. albeit hypothetical, to take up arms for a revolutionary cause.

I fully appreciate the preparedness of young people, often from socially deprived areas of the nation, to join the armed forces in order to learn a trade and earn a living. Since the politically wilful destruction of our industrial base other job opportunities are greatly restricted. Nor do I doubt that many military personnel are serving in support of deeply held principles, whether understandably honourable or misguided is here irrelevant. For me a major scandal of the Poppy Appeal is that the welfare of those who have served their nation, and it's capitalist cause, should be dependent in any way upon charitable donations. It is the responsibility of the state that recruits, employs and puts the lives of these young men at risk,for whatever ideological motivation, to look after them.

I regret the loss of life of civilians and military personnel equally; I abhor the slaughter of innocents on the imperialist whim of any ruling elite. Should there come a Remembrance Day with no uniformed military personnel or insignia on display, at Cenotaphs and commemorative church services, I would no longer see the commemorations as show of support for militarism but, rather an acknowledgement of the futility of war.

 

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This post originally appeared on 10 November 2010

The Fear of Loneliness

Where to begin, where do these words go as I fling them out into the great unknown. Where am I coming from; my anxiety has now veered close to the territory of a fully fledged reactive depression. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not fully swamped by the dreary bland emptiness of depression, nor have I fully entered into despair,  more an air of despondency, accompanied by the return of random tear flow (my posts ‘A FruitfulMisery’  and the penultimate paragraph of ‘An Overshadowing of Events’ will put this into context).

I am so fortunate in having such a large number of DVDs and CDs to watch and listen to, as well as a modest vinyl album collection, to enjoy or be distracted by. I am also blessed with a large selection of books to browse (my stamina levels only allow for a quite limited period of serious reading) to inform and/or entertain myself but, unfortunately these compensate very little for the amount of time I spend overwhelmed by a sense of ‘aloneness’ -  loneliness not solitude.

My beloved OH, has had her operation (last Wednesday) and seems to be making good progress, according to reports from my step-daughters who have been visiting her at the LGI. It seems she will shortly be discharged from the hospital, but then the long recuperation means she will be spending the first part of this process with her elder daughter in a more appropriate environment than home with me. That’s where my sense of uselessness and failure kicks in.

A Walking Talking Aching Conundrum

Confusion mounts but, is it the result of tiredness or of excruciating pain, does it stem from extreme exhaustion or intense nauseating discomfort. The evidence is difficult to decipher, in fact the evidence posits itself as the dilemma! Quite frequently the sundry pain and discomforts, especially those in the limbs, seemed to attack just at the point when a temporary exhaustion sets in but, on closer observation I have realised that the exhaustion, or a sudden loss of stamina, follows from my struggling with both aching discomfort as well as more acute pain.

There seems to be an obvious correlation between pain and tiredness but, it also tends to be a classic chicken or egg type dilemma. Recently, what I seem to have been experiencing is an excruciating (pain of) tiredness which may precede or follow bouts of the following kind. The experience, rather than pain, is as if, feet, legs, arms don’t belong to the torso but produce a kind of nauseating discomfort/dis-ease! For longer than I care to remember, my reaction to a randomly occurring hollow ache in the armpits has been one of nausea.

The armpit discomfort, at times, seemed to ease when I discarded my fleece or cardigan, donning a poncho in their place. At other times, an almost contradictory process brought temporary alleviation of the symptoms, namely donning a shoulder support which seated itself firmly in the armpit. So, a freeing up of pressure or applying additional pressure to the aching area, at different times provided relief from the same symptom.

A sudden onset acute pain, in feet, knees, wrists and/or elbows may occur during the day, immediately diminishing my concentration on whatever minor task I’ve been involved in. These symptoms may also occur as I lie in bed at night although, at those times restless legs become the major problem. A combination of low dose amitriptyline (30mg) with 50 or 100 mg of tramadol seems to prevent the restless legs kicking in but, I have no desire to become reliant on the tramadol dosage. In the case of joint pain, a combination of applying elastic supports to the affected points preceded by a generous smearing with ibuprofen gel, gradually diminishes the more acute discomfort.

By this point, you may well think that I’m a physical wreck and, I’d be tempted to agree with you. I still feel blessed that I have access to lots of good music on vinyl, CDs, and airwaves, and movies on DVD, which enable me to enjoy life, pushing the chronic aches and pains away from their dominance of my mindset. It’s strange how a sudden sharp sound, a pan lid falling, a door slammed shut etc. can produce a chest crushing bodily response, I am still able to take musical climaxes in my stride.

An Overshadowing of Events

I’ve never really been one for planning; taking things as they come, with opportunities galore for spontaneity and improvisation, is more my favoured route. Sadly, things in the real world seem to be in conflict with my ideal and, planning becomes necessary when it comes to grocery provisions, especially so for festive celebrations. It is my good fortune that ma belle OH is the grocery shopper, especially so since I’ve found it difficult to cope with the sensory overload from any store other than the, now almost extinct species, corner shop.

As Christmas Day approached I got into the, unfavoured but necessary, routine of pre-preparing certain food items before the big day itself. I enjoy cooking the main meals but, tend to get a little stressed by these special occasions. At least there were no great numbers to prepare for, our elder daughter staying with us through Christmas Eve evening until Boxing Day late afternoon whilst the younger sibling was coming over at about 2.00pm, on the day itself, together with our grandson, following his mid-day nap.

The evening before Christmas Eve day I started experiencing very dramatic floaters in my right eye and, found myself stretching out to remove a soot covered cobweb from a corner of the loo. Of course neither the soot covering, nor the web itself, existed out there in the room but were rather hyper 3D-ised visions stemming from false retina readings. Shortly afterwards I started to have rather strident flashes of light appearing beside my right eye which I found quite disturbing. Christmas Eve morning, ma belle contacted my GPs surgery which arranged a call back from one of the doctors on duty that day.

A short while later, the ‘phone rang and ma belle OH passed the handset to me, at which point I was told about arrangements for the operation, with the sudden realization that this call was for my beloved. After months of waiting, they were now informing us that, all things going well, her aortic valve replacement would be taking place on 15 January. This news cast rather a shadow over subsequent proceedings as I am, to quite an extent, dependent upon Helen as my primary carer. At the same time, I gratefully acknowledge that the operation can give her a whole new quality of life, after several months recuperation from the cardiac surgery.

The next time the phone rang; a doctor from my local practice spoke to me and arranged for an appointment that afternoon. The doctor I saw gave my eyes a thorough examination and she put through a referral to the eye clinic at the District Hospital. A short while after arriving home, the phone rang once again; this time, the message was to inform me that an appointment with a doctor at the eye-clinic had been arranged for 10.00AM on Christmas Day. This was turning out to be an unusual Christmas Eve and Day, but having undergone a thorough examination at the hospital, I was back home in time to continue preparations for Christmas Dinner.

Ever since my wife’s cardiac surgery seemed quite imminent, last summer, I have once again succumbed to anxiety and depressive episodes, randomly tearful and unduly angry with people and events. When I saw a doctor about this experience in August, all she would suggest was CBT as she wanted me off all my medications, not adding something else. My anxiety intensified after that visit as the medications I am taking are for the heart, following a minor stroke, for long-term abdominal problems and for pain and restless leg control. As the operation date, for my beloved, is once again imminent, the anxieties have intensified so, yesterday afternoon, I saw a different doctor who is consulting with a pharmacist and the mental health team to see if there may be a suitable course of medication etc.

This afternoon I attended the opticians, for an overdue eye test, and have been referred to the cataract clinic with regard to my right eye. So, things are moving and I’m struggling on…

Woes and Wherefores

You put your left hand in, you pull your left hand out … that’s what it’s all about. Well that sounds easy enough, a simple exercise but, I’ve recently been made to think about just what, and how many, muscles are used in such a simple action. In fact, in all honesty I’ve been finding the “simple” act of sitting in a high-backed armchair has become much more of a technical exercise.

Last Wednesday morning I visited the Dermatology unit, at the District Hospital, for the excision of a rodent ulcer (basal cell carcinoma), an operation which went quite smoothly (with the help of a couple of extra shots of the local anaesthetic) taking about 35-40 minutes. The cauterizing and needlework seemed to take much longer than the actual excision but, it was nice to be assured that all harmful matter had been removed.

Unlike previous occasions, when I’ve undergone a similar procedure, the dressing had to be removed after only 24 hours, and certainly not as much as 48hrs, preferably following a shower as the dressing seemed to adhere like superglue. As it worked out, my beloved removed the dressing, not without difficulty but very carefully; the skin had reddened considerably in the areas of former adhesion and the pull of the stitches became much more apparent.

With the siting of the wound (quite central in middle to lower back) it’s pretty difficult for me to see to apply the twice daily application of Vaseline to the wound so, that’s another chore for ma belle. If only I could see, and manage, the wound myself there would be less of a shock as the substance is rubbed in to the wound. Even the touch of a friend can bring a shudder to the spine. One cannot help but be aware of the wound as I try to sit back comfortably in a chair, or on the sofa, and so I am consequently unable to properly relax.

On the fourth morning after the procedure, a modest blood flow from the wound, wetting my shirt, caused me undue alarm although, fortunately, the flow quickly reverted to a slight seepage. Each move I make in an attempt to be seated, in a relaxed and comfortable posture, feels as if the muscles in the back are trying to rip open the stitches.

The upside of the situation is that I’ve been inspired to work on a new poem ‘As If The Worlds Woe’ in an attempt to capture some of the unusual situation.

A Fruitful Misery

Seems like I have a permanent ticket for a roller-coaster ride, not that I particularly requested or enjoy the experience! The journey involves states of physical and emotional health, by which I mean health shortcomings.Just as I’m getting used to feeling a dose of well-being, random pains and discomfort have a habit of leaping out to chastise me; whatever task I’m managing at that particular time, a throbbing burning pain in wrists, a sharper pain in elbows or, the nagging hollow bruised, nausea inducing, discomfort in the armpits strikes, calling an immediate halt to whatever activity is in process. (By activity I mean something akin to reading a newspaper or magazine, or maybe surfing the web on tablet or laptop: it is indeed only on very rare occasions that any of these activities are permitted as prolonged a period as thirty-minutes!). An added joy is the Damoclean sword of permanently imminent, frequently occurring, gullet, stomach and colon flare-ups.

More recently, the familiar neurological ailments have been partnered with an unrelated depressive anxiety. Some days I find myself in sudden floods of tears, concerning love, beauty and transience, fearing being alone and upset at the brevity of human life, especially as I’m now in my mid-seventies and, have become increasingly in awe at the amazing interdependence of everything in the whole cycle of life and, that nothing is wasted in nature’s economy. The primary cause of my current bout of anxiety is related to concern about my beloved OH’s impending aortic heart valve replacement operation. The operation will be of four hours duration, followed by a couple of days in cardiac intensive care then, four or five more days in the hospital.

This will be the longest period that we have been apart since our wedding over nineteen years ago. Apart from being my wife, lover, companion, confidant and chauffeur, she has increasingly become my carer. Whilst she’s in the hospital I won’t be able to visit her, owing to travelling involved. Since the onset of my chronic illness (moderate Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) even the, less than two mile, trip into town can prove emotionally and physically overwhelming, but ma belle will be in a neighbouring city some eighteen miles away. My (step-)daughters have offered to take me but, the prospect of such a journey makes me realize that I’d be in no fit state to be a bedside visitor (as I’d have to anticipate the ordeal of the return run).

A sizeable bleeding rodent ulcer (presumed basal cell carcinoma) has in recent weeks become an additional irritant and, I will shortly be attending an appointment in the dermatology dept of the District Hospital. Oh, what joys we are all heir too!

Hopeless Sanity Breaking Corporation

How easily relative calm is broken. One would suppose a simple transfer transaction online, an action that I’ve regularly performed, would cause few if any emotional problems. That presumption proved false yesterday morning. Owing to malfunction of a security device I had to use an alternative method of logging on; so far all was well until I was informed that the alternative access method would shortly be phased out.

My next action was to use live chat, to find out how I could obtain a replacement security device. Two methods were available but I opted for a simple telephone call, via which I could obtain a replacement within five working days. Having been requested, by a disembodied voice, to input sort code, account number, my date of birth etc; which information I happily supplied, I was suddenly thrown when they asked me to input digits from my telephone banking password. As I don’t do telephone banking, I was unable to oblige. After holding for a considerable time I was put through to a distant call centre (presumably somewhere on the South Asian sub-continent) and was relieved to hear a real human voice!

I immediately informed the human, at the other end of the line, that I don’t do telephone banking but I was given their number to request a replacement secure key. At first this seemed to be going well until they requested I input a digit from the aforementioned telephone banking password. Talk about going round in circles; a short while later having given further security info, she requested that I confirm a favourite quote, place etc; and some other information, the spoken words of which I was unable to decipher. By now I’d reached breaking point; I explained that I was of a certain age and suffering from a chronic health condition and all I wanted was a replacement device. My beloved, noticing my distress took over the call and, without any further questions being asked was informed that the requested device would be despatched to me.

ill at ease and strange release

Strange as it may seem to some, my best, most refreshing, sleep frequently occurs after the returning daylight hours have become established. No matter how restless, torturous, or even relaxed the preceding bed-rest hours have been, any sleep attained after say 08.00hrs always seems to be the soundest. As for night’s, and when applicable daytime’s snatched sleep or rest, I have to admit that I feel truly blessed whenever I manage to emerge from the experience feeling properly ‘refreshed’, an event that may occur as often as one occasion in the week. How blissful it is to have temporarily overcome the phenomenon of ‘unrefreshing’ sleep.

After that rambling prologue, I now move on to today’s difference. Having retired to the duvet lair at 23.00hrs, last evening, I managed to snatch my first spell of sleep after 02.20hrs. By 04.10hrs I briefly attained a state of semi-alertness which was followed by intermittent bouts of sleep and waking alertness. At around 9.00am, my beloved took Piper out for his morning walk having first assured me that she would be back before 10.00am, a little earlier than my usual emergence from the bed’s hold over me. The reason for this assurance was the impending arrival of workmen at 10.00hrs to start work on re-vamping our downstairs loo.

I drifted back into the realm of sleep only to be startled back to the awoken world, by a stridently ringing doorbell, at around 09.30hrs; I hastily crawled out of bed, donned dressing gown, stumbled down the stairs and swayed giddily as I opened the front door. The workmen had arrived early, much to my beloved’s surprise, when she arrived back at 09.53, and very much to my weary annoyance. I returned very briefly to the duvet realm, before arising to a host of painful ailments affecting head, torso, upper and lower limbs. My mood, most definitely, was not of a very beneficial nature as I contemplated the prospect of minor additional exertion required to ascend, and subsequently descend, the staircase each time I required the loo during the next few days. Spastic colon and erratic bladder function conspire to ensure that the additional effort will be required on multiple occasions per diem.

As the stress of the situation took hold, simple misunderstandings rapidly amplified themselves into major crises; it didn’t take long before I found myself unloading a plenitude of expletives towards all other occupants, resident and temporary, of my immediate lebensraum.

A Quick And Yet

Painfully restless nights have been showering me in abundance of late; how I yearn for those times when bed-rest actually proved restful and, one had the joy of waking refreshed to the new morn, albeit assisted by a strong caffeinated beverage.

My beloved OH generally manages to sleep soundly, unperturbed by the thrashing of my restless legs or the wildly uttered expletives, emanating uncensored from my brain out through my mouth, as the aches and pains attempt to take total control of limbs and torso.

A supply of wrist, elbow, shoulder and knee supports remain in attendance by both bed and armchair side, never quite sure when they will be summoned into action! Much the same applies to the omnipresent box of medications. And yet …

Oh yes, there is fortunately an “and yet” addendum to the above summation of dis-ease. Enjoyment, revelling in the music I listen to via vinyl, cd and the airwaves; movies we watch both broadcast and via dvd and even, dare I utter, VHS tape. Piper, our wonderful hybrid hound, some part beagle, some part podenco (and whatever else) went into this wonderful creation that provides entertainment, love, frustration, and simple amusement. I am fortunate that at present I am able to manage an evening walk with the boy (canine variety) as we let him run freely down squirrel alley, through the wild verges of the local playing field and the adjacent grass tussocked, cow parsley, tree and sapling sprinkled, hound scented haven.

This year the birds have returned to our garden feeding stations, nothing exotic but a rewarding mix of blue tit, coal tit, great tit, house sparrows, goldfinch, starlings, collared doves and also wood pigeons, jackdaws, and bullying magpies. It has, once again, been a delight to watch the always hungry, newly fledged starlings being fed by their elders.

There’s just so much to enjoy in the world around us, just wish the sundry bodily ailments would take a vacation!

Anticipating the Unexpected!?

Today, just sitting, no laptop, no tablet, no newssheet in my hands, none of the usual suspects for me to blame; just sat, watching a movie on TV when, suddenly, tiredness, acute throbbing pain in elbows and wrists overwhelmed me. The by now familiar, yet almost indescribable, hollow aching, disconcerting, nausea inducing, discomforting pain in the armpits rapidly produced a counterpoint to the more acute staccato rhythm playing in and through the wrist and elbows.

A further sensation, as if I felt the blood falling and draining from my face and head formed an accompaniment to the sudden pallor, acknowledged by my beloved OH almost immediately after the events’ dawn.  Come to think of it, I should have been more prepared for these events onset; on emerging from the duvet lair, and venturing towards the bathroom, my lower limbs felt hollow and feeling as if the knees  were attempting to bend the opposite way to the joints natural construction. By now, I should be prepared to anticipate the unexpected, yet again!

New Post on Mal's Factory - Poetry & Prose Poems

I have just posted a NEW POEM - Mounds Mystery - on my Mal's Factory blog. When I say new there is a possibility that it may yet prove to be quite simply a working draft.