…and the Good News is….

I’m not allergic to red wine!

I took a very disappointing trek up to the health centre on Friday morning.  In fact I had to race up as I had left the house late.  Time suddenly slipped away while I was brushing my face and putting WD40 on my feet.  I arrived, a bit out of breath, with five minutes to spare before my appointment only to be left waiting.  I had chosen what I figured would be the first or second appointment of the morning and I was not wrong, however I had not banked on the strange little doctor arriving ten minutes late himself and reeking of cigarette smoke.  He unlocked his door, donned his white coat and sat down behind the computer, which never functions fast enough for him.  He began talking to it and clicking the mouse and tut-tutting at it.  Then finally he called me in.  He did not look at me, but continued tut-tutting and clicking and, after bashing the mouse a couple of times on his desk, managed to print out a copy of my blood and other bodily functions’ analyses.  Then he read them, mainly to himself, but the upshot, I gathered, was that there was nothing ominous.  I have no allergies, no intolerances and I am not suffering with amoebic dysentery.  I was quite disappointed to be honest.  My heart leaped for an instant when he asked me if I had recently travelled to any at-risk countries because then he could have ordered another test for some rare tropical disease, but disappointingly I had to admit that I had never travelled in any Third World Country.  Ireland didn’t count.

“What now?” I asked as he began his furious tapping and mouse bashing again.  

“What’s this?” he said “some tests are still pending??”  

“Those are the regular ones for my hormonal condition.” I told him, just as he realised the same thing.  

“We will have to wait for the results of those,” he said, plainly delighted that he had a get-out clause, “before we order any other tests.”

A gratuitous beautiful sunset to lift my spirits should I be downcast by life's little hurdles...but I'm not.

“That’s it?”  I asked.  

“Yes, that’s it.” He said

And that was that.  I left.  No colonoscopy or barium meal was ordered and I am not a penny the wiser about my condition and it seems he could not care less.

So I shall continue eating like a bird and drinking like a fish.  Oddly. While I am afraid to eat I feel that the drinking, especially red wine or a brandy and port, in some way makes everything ok.  Well, it does.

Every day has been supremely busy of late and this day was no exception.  After the inconclusive clinic visit I rushed home to walk the doggies, all of them together on this occasion.  Quite a feat I might say, especially as I am struggling to teach Harold how to walk to heel.  Still it had to be done as I was meeting Beverley early to go for a recce of some winter firewood.  She had been reliably informed by a friend that this supplier charged way below the usual rate for his wood so we were very eager.  However, and after a 45 minute wait as he was out on delivery when we arrived to his yard, we discovered that her friend had mistakenly priced for two bags instead of three so in fact this new supplier was the same price as everybody else and actually more expensive than the guy I used last winter.  Bev put in an order, but I declined.  Another good reason being that delivery to my house is a nightmare.  As we live in the heart of the Centro Historico of our lovely White Pueblo access is difficult.  Up windy lanes and with sharp corners to manoeuvre it is not for the fainthearted and certainly not for a five ton lorry.  The man I use knows the terrain and has a method of delivery especially tailored to our home.  If it ain’t broke why fix it?  I just hope he brings me dry wood this year. (Another story for another day!)

Back at base it was lunchtime already and I fed the dogs, but I was afraid to eat, so nipped out to do the little bit of weekend shopping I needed.  All went well and on my return I poured myself a Brandy and port and made some tiny nibbles to go with that.  I indulged myself with watching a bit of daytime TV but pretty soon I had to deal with ‘The Phonecall’ I had been putting off for a couple of days. 

In July I switched my electricity supplier.  But company number one has been billing me for the past two months for 7.09 euros.  Not a lot.  I let the first one go as I thought it was some adjustment but now I couldn’t understand why I was still being billed three months later.  Firstly I rang company number two as the sales lady had been so very kind to me and had spoken such lovely clear Spanish that I knew I could ask her advice and would be able to understand her also.  Unfortunately she told me, very kindly, that I needed to ring the customer service of company number one, which I subsequently did.  It was not too bad, but at the final hurdle I had to ask them for an operator who spoke English.  Sometimes you just need the comfort of being able to argue your point in your own language.  So in conclusion to the inconclusive week that I have had, all round it would seem, there was nobody available to cancel my insurance, for that is what it is, an unsolicited insurance for my white goods, and I will have to wait for a call back on Monday morning.

Still, at least I can pour myself another glass of wine.

...and some gratuitous pumpkins waiting to be made into pumpkin soup and pumpkin pie.