Is the gazebo waterproof dear wee birdie?
If so I could use it
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I don’t think ‘waterproof’ would quite cut it for your needs, Twellsy: you should be looking for ‘seaworthy’ by the sound of it.
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Ach Gus we only get in excess of 100 inches of rain a year
Sure wouldn’t a boat sink under all that?
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How are the Fishly Teeth? I am concerned.
Lots of squirrel and deer activity. Good walk, too.
Soo xx
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The Fishly Teeth are fine – and the man who fitted them rang me this morning to make sure that they were, which surprised me somewhat.
On the other hand the post had a letter in it informing me that my hospital appointment in August, which I made in February because the man wanted to see me in six months’ time, has been cancelled (no reason given) and a new one made for me in December, which I calculate is four months too late for what I was asked to do.
Swings, roundabouts.
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How annoying, Fishy
Pleased about the teeth, though
Carinthia.xx
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So am I!
I might take myself down to the hospital tomorrow and arrange the appointment for myself…
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Yay! for the flashable gnashers, me dere
Ring the secretary of the Man Concerned, Fishy, and question him or her closely as to wtf they are playing at. How very annoying. Commiserations.
Oh, and this is just a train of thought. Why is it that while hospitals and GP practices withhold numbers and don’t leave answerphone messages “because confidentiality” every letter one gets from a hispoital has XXXXtown Hospital platered all over the envelopes in letters which a blind beggar could read, from the moon?
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Well writ, Gus.
Soo xx
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I was originally given an appointment for January 2nd, when my blood would have been akin to neat Vodka 
I 'phoned the department concerned, & said that I would be happy to accept a cancellation & was seen on 13th December
It’s worth a try, Fishy
Carinthia.xx
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Yes - shy bairns get nowt, after all.
Soo xx
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Apart from ‘hispoital’ and ‘platered’? Thank’ee, Bee. Ran into a lot of Bluddy Nonsense one way and another at one time. GP worse than the hospital, but neither covered themselves in glory. When someone is Really Quite Ill, they do tend to want their wife to sort things for them a bit. Funny, that.
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‘Cos the beggars don’t want you trackin’ 'em down, Gus.
The NHS is the main reason that caller-number suppression is still allowed without a surcharge.
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I know full well, from the last time that they pulled this one (last autumn/winter, when my appointment carefully made for October ended up being delayed until February) that it is not in the hands of the Endocrinology Secretary – though when I went and sat there and refused to go away, she eventually came out, sorted it out, and then vanished again into a mysterious fastness – not open to the public, and I don’t blame her.
The system goes like this:
Outpatients’ Appointments has three people on duty at any given time, and when you have seen the doctor for whichever ailment you have (diabetes, heart, thyroid, hearing loss, and so on) you go to them and they see on their screen what the doctor you have seen has requested in the way of another appointment for you. You and they then find one which suits you, and they write you in to that date and time to see that doctor. Then you go home.
About three months later, or perhaps a little more, you get a letter from a central booking place in a different town and a different hospital, telling you that your appointment (date and time, at such and such a place, to see so and so) has been cancelled, and they will get in touch soon to give you a new appointment.
Some time in the next month or so, you will if you are lucky get a letter telling you when the new appointment is. (This time the two letters arrived almost at the same time, which makes me wonder why the frod they couldn’t send them in the same envelope.) If you are unlucky, as I was last time, you hear nothing, and go down to the hospital in person to find out what is going on – to be told that they can’t make you an appointment, because they have already done that.
If you are me, you then sit down on the floor in front of all the rest of the people queuing to make an appointment, and say gently but firmly that you need an appointment, you need to make it now, you will get Palpitations if you don’t sort this out at once, that you have nothing else to do that day, and that you have the local paper on speed-dial… Oh, and that the editor of Private Eye is a close personal friend. At that point the Secretary is fetched, and she sorts it out. Last time, it was for 8am and as a special fit-in.
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Hugs, Gus. I have resolved that, upon my return home, I am going to sort out loads of stuff as there is so much I wouldn’t want people to do. Mr Soo’s stuff will also be sorted, in anticipation, azzitwere. Between that and the treadmill, I’ll hardly manage to breathe, ne’er mind organise a wedding.
Soo xx
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There is a book about doing that, Soo; it is called The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning.
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That sounds like different sorting, Soo, unless (entirely possible) I am being very dumb. And you have reminded me that there is stuff of which I need to get rid, or otherwise secure, just in case. If you are doing the doomy kind of sorting - passwords and stuff. Which you probably had thought of anyway. Then when the sad time comes, what with the wedding and all, one of you will be mystified by Canape Ideas in the middle of the bank account details… ;- )
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And that sounds like some kind of nutty endurance thing, or possibly over-enthusiastic housewifery (see also Extreme Ironing)
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Aye, and that is admirable direct action and I commend it. But an awful lot of people aren’t you, and could no more do that than sprout wings and fly, for whatever reason. Not everyone is as articulate and downright stroppy as I can be either. I got what needed to be done, done too (mostly). I did have a stand-up shouting match in a corridor with an absolute git of a consultant, too, and some of the juniors in his train came back to hug me and say ‘well done’. But I shouldn’t think ‘Mrs Thing down the road’ would have been able to.
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I knew a couple of those, inna past life. Although I have little need for my sting, these days, I had no problem employing it and to great effect, at that. Nobody died - especially not me.
Bird and beast watching, tomorrow. Good nights, Cellarites,
Soo xx
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