Flat Out

One fortunately does not celebrate Christmas.

I got a twinge the last time I was at the computer and by the time I got down the stairs I could barely walk - back trouble.

I am one of those who has had congenital back trouble ever since my early 20.s - and it decided to floor me for the Christmas period, which is possibly a good thing.

It did mean I could not go and get some results from the hospital, and id did mean that when it snowed here in Timisoara to give us a white Christmas I didn't need to go and walk in the damn stuff - so clouds and silver lining what?

I also think it might have contributed to a reduction in the swelling of the hernia (did I mention the hernia - number three on my body is trying to tell me something chart?)

Not that other things are not swollen - grapefruit size scrotal sack making feel like an over endowed ram.

But enough, I must try to keep this thing tasteful.

Too much information ...

I must warn you not to read on if you have a delicate stomach or sensitive nature.

Part of the problem of this tumour thing is the fact that it sticks out like a sore thumb - and that there seem to be associated side effects.

One of the most intriguing is the look - there has been a degree of swelling under the skin and the result is very reminiscent of the nose of a Bull Elephant seal.

The distortion is not discomforting, most of the time (although other swelling does lead to a need for careful walking) .

It does force a degree of readjustment.

The sheer physicality of it and the ability of the body to stretch and swell is becoming a fascination - and one looks down at oneself in the bath with a distance - one inspects and examines as if it were not the self, but an independent body one were looking at.

Not quite all there ...

or too much of a good thing?

There is an extension on my implement of masculinity which has sent several doctors scurrying. Scalpels and anesthesia are now brandished with aplomb.

I tend to move at a more restrained pace. Something to do with the extension.

A triple whammy of heart, hernia and tumor have certainly coloured the festive season with regards to your humble servant - although I have to admit to a sharpening of my wit.

The difficulty is in breaking the news to others - I couldn't give a damn (Quite frankly, my dear) and see in it an inevitable - of family genetics, if not of mortality itself.

I hope to keep posting - although it is very difficult to get to the computer - and I am off to the UK for the cruelest cut of all (I am most likely going to earn my qualifications for working in the Imperial Chinese Bureaucracy - or supervising the Harem of some over cautious Pasha) so sporadic, barren posts only in the near future.

Lizards, thunder and an insect bite

Why I love Romania:

You know the summer is on its way when the weather turns muggy and noisy, the first insects start to bite and there is a scuttle across the path in front of you where you just manage to catch the impression of a four legs and a tail.

The lizard, a small one, shot in front of me yesterday as I took my mid-day constitutional beside the Bega, in between the heavy strained storms which manage an intense rainfall for a short time but really don't contribute much to the soil.

The insect bite has been there irritating away for a couple of days - on the hand in a lovely position - really scratchable. It has a less accessible sister on the back, above the left shoulder blade.

Technorati Tags: Timisoara. Romania, Animals, Insects

Oh Brave New World (2)

What I don't believe is that I am blogging away here on a new download which enables me to drop a comment any time I want - just with a click on the bottom of the page.

Scribefire! - a Firefox add-on.

Something I wanted to mention but hadn't got around to doing so was my finally getting to transfer the images from my mobile phone to the computer.

Seems the system can't handle the photo though!

Added it after -

a lovely picture of my hand just after the operation.

Barking!

Etymology:

Middle English berken, from Old English beorcan; akin to Old Norse berkja to bark, Lithuanian burgėti to growl

And more growl than bark I must admit: Babel to berken.

Delivered a booster unit to some B1 students and ended up growling and barking at them. Now, Craig over in the comments of Shakespeare Experience suggests I will go mad if .... sorry old bean, too late, milk spilt, cat licked it and now had kittens.

I wonder sometimes at my antics in the classroom - and M&M still pay me.

But, to be colloquial, "Bugger that!"

Doctored again :- re-scanned and the waters are receding, but have not yet de-parted. More weeks on Ibuprofen.
However, my poor weak frame has decided to whimper a little. Bit of poor drumming on behalf of the 'old ticker' (isn't English a colourful language?).

Been Beta-blockered!

Ah HA! Real illness at last - says my vanity (and all is).

'Half a tablet of the lowest dose purchasable,' declares the doctor from Bran (talk about ego demolition jobs).

My mother's chastity is in question - did she milk the milkman and bastardise me? Am I not a true Farrar? Is it any wonder i go rabid in front of the jetsam and flotsam washed into the classrooms I prowl?

Moaning Minnie

Meaning

A habitual grumbler.

In origin an item connected with war - and my body certainly seems to have declared war on me at the moanment!

I've spent the last week with the foulest of doses of tonsillitis: Bad enough to give me the impression I am perpetually drunk - without the alcohol. Not the nice bit of drunk - the, bit where you go - Oh, bugger it - too much ...

Was waking every hour, had to drink to ease the dryness of the tonsil which was burning, but which burnt wetter after the drink!

One stage there was blood!

And to top it all - the local schop (was a typing error - but that's what it has become, a Schop!) had no ice cream!

I ask you: What on earth is the point of having tonsils if you can't have icecream when they declare war on the rest of the body?