I Told You I Wasn't Well

I have been looking forward to using the tome from Spike Milligan's headstone. Does anyone know if it does actually say that on it or is it an urban myth. I'm not going all the way across London to find out because as I said, I am ill.
I was thinking of putting in the title " Author struck down with Pneumonia " but that is probably a bit too dramatic for my blog. Truth is a have a lung infection, which is the P word, but I only have it in a certain section of my rt lung. I have to say that I am mightily relieved because I had it down for something a lot worse that it turned out. I was going for the 'that's it, no point in planning for Christmas' option. It never works out how I think it is going to, and I have dropped the moniker of "Lucky" from my name. I don't suppose all the recent outside events has done me much good, but you only live once and I did enjoy them.
So how did it go, I hear you ask. Well it was nothing like I had planned, and took six and a half hours. I wasn't able to help anyone with my chatty positive conversation, and could only look on as a young lad, probably only 11yrs, was wheeled into the area by his dad. He had an obvious growth in his throat and his dad looked like he was being pushed into the ground by a huge weight. The boy was visibly tired and just wanted to get through the scan. Let's hope he gets through what's ahead. Be nice to see him running around a rugby pitch in a few years time.
My cannula went in well, and they managed to distract me long enough for me not to faint. Bridget wasn't there and I didn't get scared. The TV was put on early after we arrived and a group of friends of a patient decided to compete for volume with Jeremy Kyle show. They were from somewhere exotic like Romania, but I was trying hard to find out why an ugly bloke had had a child by his mother. As the TV show got louder, so did the Romanians who were only sitting across from each other. I reached for my baton and my CS gas, but remembered they were out of reach in my office and so I had to put up with the Romanians drowning out the full detailed explanation.
When they left I found out it was because he couldn't get a girlfriend and wanted to have his own baby. Rev Will might well cover this aspect of sex in his sermon on Sunday morning. Webbed fingers is usually a dead giveaway. Let's just hope nobody gets upset and walks out of the hall this Sunday. Which reminds me, my Rosanna has a Sunday afternoon job in Clarke's shoe shop, and didn't leave church early last Sunday because of anything Will said. Glad to have cleared that one up. I have her name down for the Sister's of Mercy Convent in Streatham anyway, so no need to worry about how she turns out.
My blog has been changed because a critic suggested I make it more feline and easy on the eye.
I won't know what it is like until I publish it, but hope it more visually pleasing.
I'm off to lie down now and finish my Dan Brown book..which has been spoilt a little by my blog reviewers......lets just hope it is exciting and that I find out what the symbol was that was lost in such a dramatic way.