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To the hospital, to be medically imaged.
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The last time this happened, a simpler time, I wrote about it here, which is improbable because I wrote here infrequently then. As then, I meekly listened to the radio station chosen by the previous patient, but happily it wasn’t Radio 2 this time. And I apologised for my hard-to-find veins, and breathed in and out and held my breath as instructed, and the whole thing took at least two hours – not, I hope, slowed down by my poor breathing skills or anything like that.
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Anyway, good fortune to get that done before the imminent sort of DoS of the health service.
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Sold some old consumer electronics products. One to Handtec – very impressed by how quickly they worked and paid me – and one to musicMagpie, who used some alarming language to denigrate my old iPad, such that I wonder if something nasty happened in transit. Cool story.
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Moved house.
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There is a balcony, and I am a cheap date, easily impressed by a balcony. It partly overlooks a football stadium, and the precise timing of the current health situation means I’ve some time to wait to experience the novelty of the crowds flocking here and there and making their noises and everything.
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It’s a furnished flat, which is fine. I’ve hidden the frightening art provided in a cupboard, and am arranging hole-punched cardboard and double-sided tape to hang my own posters up. Also hid the offensively bad cutlery – I didn’t know I could feel that way about cutlery, but now I do. There’s no accounting for taste.
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I actually needed to buy some 🧻. Well, not quite needed – I’ve lots of respect for the European way; water is much cleaner than scratchy paper – but at least guests expect paper, so I walked all the way to Sainsbury’s to get the smallest pack available, not wanting to be mistaken for a stockpiling nincompoop. Cool story.
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Some travel and mass gathering type things I’d been looking forward to now hang in jeopardy, woe unto me.
Be well.