The Cow Jumped Over The Moon

 Saturday. 9.15 a.m. I was due to take Alfie out, as usual. But there was a slight problem. Slight being the operative word; I couldn't find him. It turned out he was under my bed. Problem two: Having to get down on the floor is quite a problem for me. I left this until around 8.45 as I thought it was important that he went out. Eventually, I caught sight of his tail and grabbed him. I felt sorry for the old boy, as he was fast asleep.

Sunday. 3.15 p.m. We had Café Church this morning. That means that there wasn't a time of worship, but fellowship, allowing everyone to interact with one another, eat cake, drink tea and coffee and generally have a good time. It allows those who probably don't attend a church to come along and find out more about Shenley Christian Fellowship and discover that it's a friendly place. 

I arrived as I usually do on a Sunday and discovered that the place was locked.  At first, I had a thought that perhaps I was an hour to early, a bit like when the clocks change and we lose or gain an hour. But it wasn't that.   There are usually people there, some setting up refreshments and the band rehearsing in the main hall. Julie, who is one of the leaders at SCF, was sitting in her car. She couldn't open up the building, as she didn't have a key and also had no idea how to switch off the alarm system.

Monday. 9.55 a.m. Warm and pleasantly sunny. The temperature is currently 27ºc according to the digital thermometer.

Time to sort recycling. Not the most exciting of jobs, but it needs to be done, otherwise my cupboard overflows. Some of the cartons are difficult to either fold or tear. I have two plastic bins of recycling and one black bin of other household rubbish. I carry the black bin, together with one plastic bin, take it to the bin store, open the first door and leave the two items in the inner room and then go back for the remaining bin. I then return to the bin store and open the outer door, and then discover the row of bins for recycling are full and there's no room for my two worth of recycling! I put the black bag in another allocated bin and then haul the two full plastic bins of recycling back to the flat. I will now have to leave it where they are until tomorrow, after the bin men come and empty the bins and then return to deposit my two bins with the recycling in the, hopefully, empty bins. What a performance!

Alfie is currently fast asleep on the kitchen floor and somewhat in the way when I am sorting the rubbish, but it doesn't matter as I can step over him. He snores, and it is somewhat amusing.

3.35 p.m.Vashti, the S.H.O. at Dexter House, told me that I ought to take my rubbish to the bin store at the other end of Dexter House. I had never thought of it, but I have now got rid of it, and we aren't apparently getting a visit from the bin men tomorrow. Do I get the feeling that they are only doing collections fortnightly? If so, we're likely to be overflowing with rubbish, recycling, etc.

We are only having Vashti here for half of the week. It's due to Milton Keynes Council running out of money and deciding that sheltered housing will have to cut its staff's hours in each unit. Vashti will be here in the afternoons and cover other units for the rest of the time. This makes sense now. The Council is run by Labour, in a coalition with Liberal Democrats. Labour is useless at financial management. Just look at the current Starmer government. Total disaster, and we're heading for a bailout from the International Monetary Fund, a replay of the 1970s when we had to go cap in hand to sort our economy out, and Labour had to make cuts to various services, and inflation went through the roof, and we had the infamous 'Winter of discontent.' I remember dustbin workers striking and going into London and seeing black bin bags piled up at the side of the road, the three-day week, shortages of things in supermarkets and television closing down at 10.30 because the miners and electricity workers walked out. They say, history repeats itself, but that's so true. 

Unacceptable

(Sunday)I can't believe that people can behave so recklessly. I'm not sure if it's because of the pandemic lockdown, but I see no end of discarded masks and rubber gloves as I walk around Oldbrook Green with Alfie. It's not just that, but some dog owners think it's unacceptable to not clear up after their dogs. This afternoon I took Alfie out, after he kept staring at me, which is usually his way of asking to be let out, and walking along the right-hand side of Oldbrook Green (that is, facing the city centre and away from The Cricketer's, I saw two piles of flytipped rubbish. I don't see why people have to behave in such a reckless manner. I think Milton Keynes Council has enough to contend with at the moment without this sort of thing and I hope they get caught and fined, because it must cost a considerable amount of Council Tax to pay for it's removal and disposal and, with the coronavirus pandemic it's putting people's lives at risk having to deal with it. Also, there is the environmental aspect to consider. It attracts rats and other vermin and that in itself is going to have a health risk.

(Monday) I took photographs of the fly-tipped rubbish with my Canon digital camera and uploaded them onto Nextdoor, the social media site. I wrote a brief description of where it was and very quickly I got a response and someone contacted Campbell Park Parish council, who administer this area. This morning, as I walked past with Alfie, I saw it had been removed and close by, the workers clearing up other rubbish and litter. No doubt it was them who removed it and put it in their vehicle which was parked close by. There were hi-vis clad workmen elsewhere picking up litter. It's a real disgrace that people have to behave in such a thoughtless fashion, but it's good that this has been resolved and speedily so as to avoid any vermin getting into it or before it starts deteriorating which would make it more difficult to clear up.

I have this morning given Alfie a bath, basically because he is getting really mucky and a bit smelly. It's to be expected with a dog with a longish coat, which really needs grooming, but this isn't possible under the current pandemic lockdown restrictions. Also, being little and closer to the ground, he does tend to pick up mud and grime as well as getting bits of twig and leaves stuck in his coat. He doesn't like water particularly, but I think he enjoys the drying process because he gets a lot of attention. I had him on my knee in the bathroom and rubbed him dry with a towel and the he started running around the lounge, bouncing on and off the sofa and is now curled up in his pile of blankets on the sofa. His coat has gone all curly as a result of being wet.

I've now heard that a letter with an address was found in the pile of fly-tipped rubbish which means the perpetrator of this disgraceful incident will not be found and hopefully receive their just reward, probably a fairly hefty fine. It should be quite hight and then given some sort of media mention as a deterrent to others who might think it's acceptable.

(Wednesday) It's sunny but quite chilly this morning. Up and out with Alfie early and we walked round Oldbrook Green.

It looks as if the lockdown restrictions are going to be relaxed. Not a complete return to 'normal,' meaning how life was before the pandemic. I can't see how it can be, but from what I saw on the press conference on BBC1 last evening, it would appear that the number of recorded incidents of people with the virus as well as those who have died is beginning to flatten out. Mind you, there is far too much coverage of the pandemic and it's becoming to the point of saturation coverage.

I had intended going shopping in Sainsbury's this morning and I'd made a very detailed list to take with me and to speed up the actual shopping process and hopefully avoid the time actually in the store, but when I went to start the car I found it wouldn't start. It is most likely because the car has been sitting on the parking space and not being driven as it would normally, but because of the pandemic lockdown I haven't driven to church or to Camphill for a few weeks. I gave it a couple more attempts but nothing, so I rang Bleakhall Motors and they said they'd ring back in around an hour, and, as good as their word, someone came out and got the car started. I don't know how, but he had some sort of gadget, I don't know what it was, but it did the trick and was told I would need to drive around for about half an hour to boost up the battery's charge, which is what I did and drove part-way to Buckingham, going round one of the roundabouts and headed back into Milton Keynes. I will probably have to take the car out each day to keep it in running order, because I really don't want this to happen again in the near future. A lesson learnt.

I considered ordering via the Sainsbury's website, and did an order, but then discovered that I couldn't get a delivery slot because almost every one was taken for several weeks into the future. They have given preferential treatment to those who are 'vulnerable,' and I don't fit into this category, unfortunately. I'm wondering how they class someone as vulnerable, to the Covid-19 virus, as I would have thought I would have fitted this category as I have had two heart attacks, but apparently I don't come under this umbrella so I can't order food on-line, but it's fine for me to put myself at risk of the infection if I visit a supermarket.

(Saturday) I'm continuing with the photography project. I had a good excuse to take the car out and went along Chaffron Way and saw some poppies on the verge and decided they would be a good subject for said project, so I parked in Fishermead and walked back but, strangely, couldn't find the aforementioned poppies as it's quite a difficult matter to find a route through the trees and nettles, but in the process found quite a wide range of plants and flowers to photograph. Once I'd managed to take as many shots as possible I went back to the car and drove down Chaffron Way as if I was going to Camphill and eventually came back through the centre of Milton Keynes. It's so strangely free of traffic, except for the occasional vehicle, making it seem more like a Bank Holiday or even a Sunday, all due to the lockdown.

Alfie was expecting to have another outing so we went out along Strudwick Drive. On crossing Oldbrook Boulevard and onto the Green, I was shocked by the sight of a man, dressed in red football strip, having a wee behind a hedge, well, not even BEHIND it, standing on the road-side and making no attempt to hide. I have seen most things, but the sight of someone relieving themselves in this blatant fashion is quite unbelievable and actually quite unacceptable and I think if he was seen doing so by a passing police officer it is likely he would have been prosecuted for unacceptable behaviour. Not something one would wish to see in 'polite society' as they say.

Going Swimming and More Benefit Blues

I've been attempting to find a local swimming pool so that I can go swimming (well, whatever else do you do at a swimming pool?) We used to be members of DW near the stadium and then transferred to Nuffield Health at  Kent's Hill. I could have returned to Nuffield, but it would be too painful emotionally because of not having  my lovely Carol with me to go with. Also, the monthly charge has gone up considerably to around £44 which I don't intend paying, even though it meant visiting as many times as you want a month. But I don't want to pay a monthly membership but would like somewhere with a sauna and possibly a Jacuzzi which were available to members at both former clubs. A decent swimming pool without a lot of noise and no loud music or children screaming. I looked on line and decided that Bletchley Leisure Centre had such facilities, so the other morning I ventured forth. I haven't really explored Bletchley, apart from when we've gone to Swinton Insurance office that used to be in Queensway, but has since closed down and all their business is done on line.

The leisure centre is in a real maze of streets and you can park in a multi-storey carpark nearby, designed on a sort of helper-skelter principle. I'm not over-keen on this style of carpark. I don't really like parking my car on a slope for one thing and just trust the car's brakes don't fail because you're relying on them to keep the car from moving backwards or whatever. I don't really like multi-storey carparks at the best of times. Anyway, I went into the leisure centre. It's in a real dump of an area and has to be down one of the ugliest approaches to any building. I paid my entrance fee and went into the changing area. You have to put your belongings in a locker and use your own padlock, which I had bought for when we went to Nuffield and it took me some time to remember the combination to open the thing. We didn't want to have keys when we went as it would mean there was the possibility of loosing them which would have been disaster. You change in a small cubicle which has a lock and the whole place looks as if it's in need of a revamp, sort of stuck in a 1970's or 1980's time warp. Not generally too bad, but could be better. Never mind.

Once at the pool-side I realised I had timed my visit totally wrong, because, as it was the beginning of the schools summer holiday it was swarming with children. The pool is divided up into three sections, one for serious swimmers (which is where I wrongly decided to enter the pool, until I was told off in no uncertain terms by a lady who shooed me away from the other end of the pool a bit like a slightly bad tempered primary school teacher. I won't go in that area again. Then I transferred to the main area, which was crowded with children, some with adults, but also a group of teenage boys who spent all their time messing around and splashing one another and generally not considering the other pool users, getting in the way and not being considerate at all. All I wanted to do was gently swim up and down the pool, but their behaviour and the fact that they got in my way was really annoying. One lady of a more mature age race them a talking to, but it didn't seem to make any difference and they continued their anti-social behaviour.

Once I'd left the pool because of the behaviour of those youths and the fact that there was so little space with all the children, I decided to get dried and dressed and then went into the café had a cold drink and a snack and then left the leisure centre and walked back to the car in the multi-storey carpark. When I arrived at my car I found I wasn't able to reverse out because there was a car in the way because the young girl driver was having real problems getting the car to start. No worries. It happens to the best of us. A bit of patience required. Her father was attempting to give advice, she was trying to get the car to start, no success and if you do it too often you probably cause more problems, such as flooding the engine. In the end the only resolution to the situation was to push the car back into the parking space it had come out of (hence blocking my car in so I couldn't reverse out.) which I helped to push, along with another male driver who volunteered his services. Once returned to it's parking space, father and daughter walked off towards the leisure centre. I imagine, with time, the car would start. Over attempting to start it was doing no good and a long rest might mean the petrol would drain out of the carburettor and next time they tried to start it, there would be no problem. Or at least, that was my thinking. Once the car was moved, I could reverse out and go home. 

I had a letter from Milton Keynes Council this morning when I returned from my swim,  informing me that because I hadn't let them know I had been awarded Pension Credit, all of £7 per week, I would have today them back £440. When I last went into the Council Benefits office and spoke to a lady she never once asked to see the letter I had from Pension Credit. I was told that Pension Credit would i form the Council, but it is now quite obvious that this never happened. If I make a mistake (I didn't, but there's no point arguing.) I have to pay. If they make a mistake, the same happens. I just need to know that my rent is going to be paid, full stop. Earlier I had attempted to contact the D.W.P. (Department of Work and Pensions) to try and find out what was happening regarding the matter of Carol's pension from when presumably she worked in Bournemouth. The man I spoke to first told me I would need to ring another number as he hadn't got the information on his computer system, so I rang this new number, to be informed that their computer system was being up-graded which meant they couldn't get into it until later in the day or perhaps the next day. All this, meanwhile, having consequences for my housing Benefit and other financial matters.

I have now written a letter which I intend sending to the Benefits Section at Milton Keynes Council. When I visited them later in the morning, having received the letter about having to payback over-paid benefits, I was told that I might get what is called a Discretionary payment to pay some of my rent, so I have this morning filled in the form and will take it to the Council later today.

Somewhere To Live?

I've come to the conclusion that the only answer to my housing situation (such as it is) would be for me to have a lodger.  There is a perfectly adequate spare room for this purpose. And it has a bed and other furniture in it. This is because Milton Keynes Council will not pay for the entirety of my rent. I have been attempting to find alternative accommodation, a smaller, one-bedroom flat or house within Milton Keynes, which would hopefully mean lower rent and mean that Housing Benefit would pay the full cost. I'm still not sure why they won't pay my full rent costs. I will need to consult our landlord to get his agreement as regarding having a male lodger. If he is, he would need to interview prospective candidates and it would need to be someone I could trust implicitly, probably someone nearer my age, who likes dogs and wouldn't let Alfie out as he would likely get out and run off if the front door was left open. I think a lot of the problems regarding my situation is that there aren't enough affordable properties within Milton Keynes and it's extremely difficult to find what you are looking for. It doesn't help that, even going through what I imagined was the right route and approaching Milton Keynes Council to get help and support, I was told I couldn't be helped, basically because as I already have a home I'm not classed as 'homeless.' I have attempted to use something on-line which is called 'Homehunt,' which is a tool which you use to apply for accommodation, a house or flat. But I have tried to use it but it will not function properly. So many on-line tools such as this are not functional and, to be honest, totally useless.

I had intended getting up a good deal later because it was a Saturday. But Alfie wouldn't have it. He kept shuffling about in the bed and came to stare at me. So, I got up, somewhat reluctantly, and got dressed, took my medication and we went out for our usual walk around Eaglestone Park, and before I had breakfast. I think he was well and truly pleased. When we got back home, I managed to have breakfast. It's not quite as cold and icy as it has been for the past few days.

Later. I wrote out a shopping list and then went to Sainsbury's. It was a little after 9 when I got there and I'm glad I did, because it was virtually empty of other shoppers. Carol and I generally went shopping early, because we could then go out somewhere afterwards, usually Whipsnade or a National Trust property. How I miss her! We did so much together as a couple. I just have to keep going on my own. I never for a moment imagined I'd be back as a single man again.

I got some spray limescale remover for the bathroom, to clean the toilet, sink and bath. It comes in one of those plastic bottles with a trigger. But they've put a child-proof lock on it, which I cannot remove. If I can't remove it to use it, then it will definitely not allow a child to get into it and do damage, to itself or others. I just want to use it for the purpose for which it was made to CLEAN the bathroom! Crazy situation. Perhaps if it's child proof I should find a child to open it! It would be a challenge for said child. The question being, how long would it take a child to open a child-proof item? 

House-Hunting

The title of this blog post is correct, up to a point. But it should be 'home-hunting' but that doesn't really work.  Nit-picking, I know, or being pedantic (which is the same thing, or tortological), but does it matter, and do you, or I, really care? Probably not. A flat, bungalow or any sort of one-bedded home would be preferable. I just can't continue to live in this house because the rent is too high and Milton Keynes Council will not pay the full amount, for whatever reason I can't fathom. I rang several agencies this morning, having been given a list when I went to the Council offices yesterday morning. I was told that they couldn't help because I wasn't homeless, which is true up to a point, but I am trying to sort things out before I have problem, which is one reason i went to Citizens' Advice this morning, rather than going to Camphill to work with the drama group as I have done each Tuesday for the past two weeks. I hope to go back next week. I did ring to say I wouldn't be there at 8.30.

I had been given a list of agencies which I began to ring early this morning. Not a great deal of use. The minute you say 'Housing Benefit' they don't always want to help. A couple said that someone would return my call, a person who deals with rental properties, so I waited, and waited, but no call came back. Just annoying and a waste of my time. So it occurred to me that perhaps Citizens' Advice might be more helpful. I just need someone to be a bit more supportive of my situation. I wasn't entirely sure where the CAB office was in Milton Keynes, so I had to go on Google Maps and then, when I drove into the city centre and parked the car, I used my iPhone and the maps app to guide me to the office in Midsummer Boulevard.

I was handed a form to fill in as soon as I arrived, by the lady on the reception desk. So I sat down and began to fill in the form. The usual stuff you have to put on such a form. Why was I there? My age, address, age and goodness knows what else. Did I mind them sharing my details 'with other agencies,' or something. A declaration for G.D.P.R. (General Data Protection Regulations). There weren't many people waiting with me. I also had a card with a number on it, right this moment I can't remember the number, and then I heard someone call out the number. It was behind me. This seems the general procedure in most places, you get given a ticket or card with a number on it and then you have to wait for the number to be called out or appear on a digital screen, as in the case of the doctor's surgery, a clinic at the hospital, the Jobcentre or Council offices.

I was eventually called into an office by one of the advisors. I was surprised how quickly I was seen. Having used C.A.B. when I lived in Bedford, I can remember vividly having to wait around 2-3 hours to be seen. I know there weren't as many other people waiting when I was in the Milton Keynes office, it seemed a good deal more efficiently run than the Bedford branch. Or they have more staff and a better procedure before you get seen by anyone. It doesn't look as if there are many options for alternative accommodation. House prices are sky high in Milton Keynes, probably higher than most parts of Britain, probably because Milton Keynes is such a successful town. It is expanding rapidly and there are plenty of jobs. As a consequence, people will pay higher prices for houses and also rent is higher than the average. Many people rent, particularly when there is a floating population, those who come to work here briefly and don't intend buying a property. So as a result of all this I'm finding it difficult to find somewhere else to live. I was given a list of housing association telephone numbers to try. Probably they would have somewhere for me to move to and, because they aren't run to make a profit, they would look after their tenants better than an organisation which is profit-based and have shareholders.

On arriving home I began to ring some of the numbers on the list I had been given. One of the housing associations is Bedford Pilgrim's. I didn't realise they had properties in Milton Keynes. I used to live in one of their flats when I lived at Beauchamp Court in Bedford. I discover that I can't approach them directly to be put on a waiting list for a property. I have to go through the Council. I have to send an email to them and I soon get a reply. I have to be homeless to apply. What is going on here? I'm going out of my way to avoid being homeless. They won't help me, as I was told when I visited the Council offices on Monday. I feel really annoyed. It seems that nobody wants to help me. One suggestion made when I was at the C.A.B. office yesterday was, would I consider having a lodger, who would pay rent which would make up the difference that I'm not getting in Housing Benefit? This has crossed my mind. There is a largish spare room, which was Daniel's when he lived with us. I'm not so sure it's such a good idea. It would have to be a male lodger, someone I trusted and anyway, I'd have to have my landlord's approval and I'm not sure he would agree to having a lodger. This person would pay his rent directly to the landlord and he'd have to interview any prospective candidates. It would seem to be one solution to this problem, but I still can't think why the Council can't pay all of my rent.

A knock on the door at around lunchtime yesterday. I rush to answer and two people standing on the doorstep, a young man and a girl, with clipboards in their hands. From some power provider. I say, 'oh no, not more!' They turn tale and walk away. It's getting annoying, this. It was P.P.I. I'd get telephone about, but now it seems every power company under the sun is out touting for custom. That's three i've had in the past couple of weeks, several offering to install a smart meter. I know they are only doing their job, but I'm getting heartily sick of them coming to the door or telephoning me.

Carol Discharged From Hospital . . . At Last!

Yet another hot and uncomfortable day. The weather is becoming somewhat monotonous, to say the least.

I've been attempting to sort out the tenancy agreement we have with our landlord to give to the Housing Benefit department at Milton Keynes Council. I have sent them an email, as I thought I'd attempt another tactic. Several years ago we had problems with the gas boiler in this house. We attempted to ring the landlord, but we couldn't get through. We then went through the council, because it would be obvious that they would have his details because of paying Council Tax and one thing and another. It worked and we eventually got the boiler replaced. So I thought of using this again and wrote the email and sent it. I even rang and got through quite quickly, considering how long it can take. I was then told, after explaining all about how they'd contacted the man over the boiler I was told, rather annoyingly, that they couldn't do that, 'because of data protection.' So, this  is because of the confounded new E.U. legislation called the General Data Protection Regulations 2018, which came into force in May. We're back were we started. I have left a message on our landlord's voicemail, but no response seems to be forthcoming. Where is the man? Does he not realise that this is important? It's not just us that need the paperwork to finish the Housing Benefit claim. He won't get his rent paid without it etc etc etc.

We spent a long day on the ward. We knew at some point Carol would eventually be discharged, but when, we couldn't say.

At 11.40 Carol had an appointment in the Macmillan Unit with Doctor Saka, the Lead Cancer consultant. Carol was taken down in a wheelchair by a porter. It's not far from Ward 22, but she clearly couldn't walk that far so it was best to be taken in a wheelchair. We have to wait a long time in the waiting area. They never seem to run to time in these units. Perhaps they don't give enough time for consultations, there's a lot to discuss. Eventually Carol's name is called and we go into the office of Dr Saka. It's the main man, not one of his minions. He asks Carol questions, about why she has been in hospital for four weeks. He came to Ward 1 when she was there, but didn't know she was on Ward 22. It seems as if there's a communication problem. Why wasn't he informed? This seems to be a problem with some N.H.S. departments, a lack of joined-up care you might say. He spends ages looking at the scanned imaged that came from the various scans Carol has had over the past few weeks and months, the M.R.I. and C.T. scans. We sit in silence. It's quite scary. We wait with baited breath. We're here to hopefully find out what the plan is for Carol's care. We are told that the liver and bowel cancer has been shrunk considerably by the chemotherapy, but they've found some cancer in her bones. It's a bit of a blow. How will all this be treated? He tells us that he will make a report and contact the cancer unit at the Churchill Hospital in Oxford and they will make some sort of decision. We feel we're no further forward. We haven't had the answers we need. The heat and the fact Carol's been ill and in hospital for near enough five weeks is really telling. We leave the consolation room and go back to the reception desk to make an appointment for four weeks hence and then the porter comes and Carol goes back to Ward 22.

Carol has quite a few visits from people different from N.H.S. departments at the hospital, the nurse about the stoma; someone from ophthalmology. The lady came with various lenses and glasses for Carol to try to help make reading easier for her because she's having problems with her eyes. A rather weird sort of pair of glasses with double lenses which had a knurled device on their frame which helps them focus a sort of domed glass magnifying glass that you move across a page of text, another which was a   squarish magnifying glass on a handle. Carol didn't get on with the strange glasses, which made me think of the sort of specs that someone who does close work, like a clock-maker might use. Or the character of Professor Brainstawn from the books I was read when I was at school and later read myself. He had around five pairs of glasses which were perched on the top of his head and he was always loosing.  written by the author Norman Hunter and Illustrated by W. Heath Robinson. In the end Carol chose the magnifying glass with the handle because she found the strange glasses to complicated. She will have an eye test so she can have proper prescription glasses. Then another lady arrived, from the diabetes team. She bought a bloodsugar testing monitor so that Carol can do the necessary blood tests to keep on top of her levels. We were looking into buying a new one, so, with this model, together with the lancets which go in a separate gadget to prick her finger, that's a definite saving. She also gave us a list to take to our doctor so all these bits and pieces which need replacing can be re-ordered on prescription because at the moment we have to pay for all these things. Hopefully, Lloyd's in Sainsbury's will be supplying all of this when the time comes for a repeat prescription.

Around 2.30 Carol eventually went to have the P.I.C.C. line put in. A nurse came to take her down, walking there, not in a wheelchair with a porter. It's not far to the scanning department. I had to wait in the waiting area, as you'd expect. The whole procedure took around an hour. After which we returned to the ward.

Carol had ordered supper (do they call it supper, dinner or tea in hospital? Whatever it's called, her evening meal.) It came around 5 o'clock. I could make myself a meal of some sort when I got home, go and get fish and chips or cook one of the individual meals I'd bought in Morrisons's a couple of days ago. She had a baked potato and baked beans. It would mean that she wouldn't want a meal when we eventually got home.

Someone arrived from the pharmacy department with all the medications that Carol would need when she got home. A couple of large carrier bags full of stuff together with all the bits and pieces needed by the community nurse who would be coming each day to give Carol the antibiotics. That is what P.I.C.C. line is for.

The nurse in charge had done the relevant paperwork, the discharge stuff, the official paperwork which gave a description in clear language of why carol had been in hospital, together with a couple of pages of all the medication she as being sent home with. We had to go through it all and check it off. All I can say is, thank goodness for the N.H.S. and the fact that we don't have to pay for any of this as it would cost us a considerable amount of money.

Nearly 6 o'clock and by this time I'd taken one load of things out to the car. Several carrier bags which would make the final exit a good deal easier. One of the nurse came and pushed Carol in the wheelchair out down in the lift and out through the double doors where the ambulances pick up and drop of patents. This is where we got on the ambulance which took Carol and I to the Churchill Hospital in Oxford all those months ago, before she had her chemotherapy, and was so uncomfortable, basically because the driver drove so fast and it was just plain unpleasant.

The nurse got Carol as far as she could in the wheelchair. The road surface going the rest of the way to the carpark is far too uneven for a wheelchair, so I went to fetch the car and drove it back to the ambulance entrance so that Carol could get in and the rest of the luggage put in the boot of the car. So, she was at last discharged and we drove home. Alfie was excited to greet Carol when we got in the house, having unloaded the car. I think she was glad to be able to sleep in her bed for the night. By the time we got home it was gone 7 o'clock but we knew that it was likely to take several hours for Carol's discharge to be completed.

No House Inspection

I'm somewhat annoyed. I got a note through the door this morning (Wednesday), from our landlord, to say he won't be visiting and can I ring him tonight to reschedule? Having spent the last few days cleaning the place, it's a bit of a nuisance, to say the least. It does mean that I can be with Carol this morning when the doctors do their ward round, because I wouldn't have been there if the house inspection had gone ahead for 11 o'clock this morning. Hopefully Carol will be discharged sometime today, so at least she will see a spotless house, or as near as possible. Never mind, at least it will be ready for a landlord visit next week. I don't know when the note was put through the letterbox. I have been awake since at least 5 a.m., been out with Alfie for a walk, but I never heard the letterbox rattle, as you would expect if something was pushed through.

I was washing up at the kitchen sink when I saw a dustcart drive past. I had put three bags of rubbish out, two black bags and a pink one with recycled stuff in it. Why didn't they stop to pick up our bags? It's 8.35 as I write this, and those bags are still were I left them earlier this morning. Why don't the dustmen take them instead of driving past? I know they take the recycled bags separately, but, frankly it doesn't make sense to just drive past. I bet these bags will still be here when I get back home later this afternoon. It really is an odd way to collect rubbish. You are supposed to put it out well before 7a.m. on a Wednesday, but quite often it's still there at 2 p.m.  I heard a report on BBC television news the other day, which said that some recycled material isn't recycled and goes to landfill. Not very good to hear that, when I go to so much trouble to put stuff in the correct pink bag. Incidentally, why are Milton Keynes Council replacing the pink bags with grey bags? Seems a bit pointless to me. What's wrong with pink? As it is, they are very flimsy and easily torn and quite difficult to open.

Later. The continuing saga of the carpark barrier. I don't know whether to laugh or cry over this. I know I've given time and energy to the car parking arrangements at Milton Keynes University Hospital in quite a few of these blog posts. Why on earth they don't just remove the stupid things, because they seem to cause much stress and angst. Either you can't get in, because the barrier won't raise, or the tickets don't come out of the machine when you enter, or the barrier won't raise to let you out. It's more than a little bit annoying. This morning the barrier was raised, so you couldn't take a ticket when you pressed the button. Which meant, when I came to leave this afternoon, I had no ticket, so when I drove out, with the barrier down, I had to press the 'help' button to get a security person to let me out. It can be tricky to do this, because you have to stop the car near enough to the machine so you can stretch out your arm to press the button. Then a disembodied voice asked 'which car park?' to which I had to think, and then said 'near Cardiology,' at which the barrier was raised. I think they must be loosing money from this pandemonium. The barriers seem to spend more time inoperative and operative and people wouldn't be paying to park. Why not just remove all these machines and return to free parking?

On the ward things haven't changed much. No new patients. I arrive in plenty of time for the doctors' ward rounds. It amuses us that when they arrive, around half a dozen of them, with one pushing the computer trolley thing which has all the patients notes in it, they bundle into the 12 X 12 space each patient and their bed contains and draw the curtains around them. How many doctors can you fit in the space? It can be quite intimidating if you are the patient, as I have been myself, with so many people crowding in, sometimes with students, some at the back of the group, someone making notes. What are they all for? The, should I say 'lead doctor', who does all the talking has this morning come in and SITS ON THE BED! Outrageous! I was told you must NEVER, as a visitor, SIT ON THE BED! When I was on one ward a couple of years ago, there was a woman, a volunteer, who was so rude to Carol, she wouldn't let Carol read my notes, which were on a clipboard in a holder at the foot of the bed (now all notes are on the new computerised system eCare or something.) This harridan came in to work in Ward 1 when Carol was first admitted nearly five weeks ago. I think she took her authority too far and was just plain unpleasant. Anyway, this female doctor tells Carol this morning that they have found an antibiotic which will work to eradicate the infection in her septum. She can be given this new antibiotic via a P.I.C.C. line, which has to be inserted (as the old one was, which was removed a week or so ago.) Carol would need to come to the hospital on a daily basis to have the antibiotics administered through the P.I.C.C. line, for two weeks, then the medication can be taken in tablet-form for a further six weeks. We later learn that a community nurse (I think that's the title.) would visit Carol at home and administer the antibiotics, which would cut the risk of further infection, which might happen if she was to visit the hospital. Later on, another doctor appears and says that the lady who fits the P.I.C.C. line is currently on holiday and there is no-one else able to do the job. Which seems amazing to me. Why on earth doesn't the hospital have someone who can cover for this lady whilst she is on holiday? So, it would seem that Carol is likely to be in hospital for another few days, intact, most likely until Monday when I image the P.I.C.C. line-lady returns from holiday.

This evening I have been attempting to contact our landlord via telephone. Each time I attempt this operation, I just get a recorded message and to 'leave a message.' I try on three separate occasions. I don't want to record a message. I just want to speak to the man. I don't want either him or his wife ringing once I've gone to bed or to ring when I'm out. I want to speak to a live person. So much easier and less annoying.

Some time later I get a telephone call. At first I think it might be the landlord. But it's not. It's a woman doing a survey. I agree to do it. It's on political things and turns out to be on my views on Brexit and the so-called 'Chequers Agreement' on a 'soft' Brexit deal. What are my thoughts? Well, I'm not going to tell you on here. I did ask, at the end of the interview, what the information would be used for, but she wouldn't say. Probably for a newspaper of one of the television channels, BBC News, ITN or Channel four or even Sky News.

A Sunny Day (or not)

It's bright and sunny this morning (Thursday). Just hope it doesn't pour with rain after I've put washing out on the line. It's quite gusty so the washing should dry quickly. The garden still needs lots doing to it, cutting back the brambles at the bottom of the garden. They are incredibly tough to cut through and really cut into your hands with their thorns, so I use gloves.I've put the bits I've managed to cut into our one and only wheely bin. It's not really big enough for all the garden waste I'm putting into it We only get the wheely bins emptied once every two weeks which is making things more difficult, slow and steady. We don't have a side gate which we could use to take the bin round to the front of the house.  I have to take the bin through the house and out through the front door. Not exactly convenient, but how else is it to be taken out for the bin men? What gate we have was sealed up when the fence was repaired. It's really up to our landlord to spend out and have a new gate installed, but he's not going to spend out on anything he doesn't want to. So the bin remains in the garden (Garden? What garden?) 

We went to the Council offices yesterday as we're going to have to apply for benefits. There's really no choice as Carol has been off work for almost a year. I managed to park outside the offices, not too difficult, and payed the £2 required for an hour. Going in to the reception area, it's all changed since we last were here, must be at least 8-10 years ago. All bright paintwork and large photographs of places in Milton Keynes. A bit like the set for a breakfast television show. Low desks in sort of pastel shades. The lady on the reception desk (not a desk. More like a tiny IKEA coffee table. Nowhere for her to sit.) standing and welcoming people as they came in. Took our request for a form to start the application process. They don't have paper forms, it would seem. To get a reduction of Council Tax we need a reference number. We are given a ticket with a number on it and have to wait in the waiting area. Lots of people waiting and coming and going. Our number shows up on the digital screens, in the 'Triage' section. Other people seem to get called by the computerised voice, one in particular called several times, but no takers. We are eventually called by the female computer voice and we go to 'Desk Number 2.' Each desk has a red digital read-out. When we get there we have to prove our identity so I have to go back to the car to get my wallet and return to show my Driving Licence as well as Carol's. Which means the lady on the desk can get into the data-bank and she gives us the reference number we require on a small slip of paper which I store in my wallet for later use.

We return to the reception area where there is a row of three computers on desks and start the process of making our application. The application goes well enough, but by 2 o'clock I realise I'm going to have to put another £2 worth of parking ticket on the car, but, as I have no change, I go to the NatWest next door (fortunately our bank.) and take out £10 and then go inside to get change from one of the tellers. I then return to the car and pay the required sum into the machine and put the ticket inside the car's windscreen and the return to Carol who is continuing to fill in the on-line application.

It seems so obvious that the Council are attempting to run the benefits department with very few staff. The lady on the reception seemed to be doing the job of at least three people, attempting to help those with their on-line application as well as signing in new people as they entered reception. Usually they would have several people behind a reception desk. Also, no doubt they are trying to cut down on paper if you apply on line. Which a good idea because if you fill in a paper form that information has to be transferred onto a computer at some stage in which case another team of people would be required, so to have that information fed directly onto a computer system must surely save money in not having to employ more staff to do the job.

All the effort to do the application at the Council offices was a waste of time because there was so much information we needed which we didn't have with us. So we went home and did the application on our own laptop.

We went to the oncology department at around 10.45. The actual time we were supposed to be there was 11.20, but Carol wasn't seen until 11.35. She was having the pump removed and this was the last time, after the completion of the 12th chemotherapy cycle. 

Boiler Problem . . . Almost Sorted

We spent a particularly cold night. No heating doesn't help. We considered our options. We had mentioned the situation with Mark Sherratt, pastor of our church, Milton Keynes Christian Centre, on Sunday morning, which was before we'd attempted to contact our landlord. This morning we decided to go and see Mark at church and ask for advice as to how we could resolve the problem of the dysfunctional boiler. He said that we had several options, pay for the work which had been booked with British Gas this Friday, go to Smart Move, the rental agency which we'd used originally to rent the house or go to Milton Keynes Council as they were very likely to have our landlord's details on record for Council Tax and other purposes. So, once we'd finished at church we drove into the city centre and parked where we usually park in the multi-storey carpark near Debenham's and walked through the shopping centre towards the Council offices. The receptionist was very helpful and told us we'd need to phone from the council office, as she gave us two numbers to ring. There was a considerable wait as several other people were waiting to use the telephone ahead of us. When we eventually got through, we were informed that they would be able to find our landlord's address in their database and that an officer would need to come to the house to inspect the boiler. More, I think, to prove that what we were telling them about the boiler was accurate before contacting our landlord. Having finished at the Council offices, we walked back into the shopping centre and went to Marks and Spencer's to do a bit of shopping and then returned to the carpark to get to the car and drove home. It was barely minutes after we got in the house when the telephone and the officer from the Council said that he'd be visiting at around 2 o'clock. He didn't actually arrive until 2.30, and had a letter to put through the landlord's door detailing the boiler situation. At around 4.30 the landlord telephoned, having got in from work to discover the letter on his doormat and saying he would attempt to find a boiler repair man to deal with the boiler misfunction. He later rang to say that he would come after 7 o'clock with sufficient cash for us to pay for an engineer who  will come out in the morning and didn't want us to pay ourselves. So, hopefully, by mid-morning we will have some resolution to this whole situation. We now have the landlord's address and telephone number in case of any further problems we may have with the house.

Life's Little Niggles

There are quite a few little niggles I could mention as I go about my daily activities. What do I mean by a niggle? A fly in the ointment, a stone in your shoe? A minor hiccup? A spanner in the works of life? I'll try and explain a few I have come across. Such as having problems with opening packets, jars and bottles. Why do manufacturers insist on making it so difficult it get into the packets they put their products in? Such as teabags, particularly P.G. Tips. Why is it so hard to get through the cellophane wrap the boxes are covered in? They could put a pull-tag on the cellophane which means the covering comes off easily, but generally, no, there is never such a thing. Why cover the packets in this foul stuff in the first place? What is the point of it? It surely can't be to keep the teabags within dry, or can it? Then, once you actually get inside there is a sort of perforated flat, which you have to break into when you want to extract a teabag. They put a similar perforated section in boxes of paper tissues which are virtually impossible to break into and then you have to extract the tissues through a very thin opening, which means that several tissues get torn to threads in the process, most annoying when you have a cold, with a runny nose and want a tissue in a hurry. Going on from tissues, how about toilet rolls? How easy can it be for manufacturers to make a roll of toilet paper which are easy to start off when the roll is new? You go to the loo and then discover at the vital moment that the loo roll has run out so you hunt far and wide for a new roll and then have trouble getting the end of the roll to start because it so difficult to get hold of the end of the paper and when you do eventually find the end, it just disintegrates and becomes virtually useless. Ink cartridges for printers can be annoying. Not just the fiddly installation process, but the packages they come in can be very difficult to open. There again, they have to be covered in more cellophane and then you break your fingernails trying to open the packet and then the actual ink cartridges are wrapped in more cellophane. Another product which can be annoying to open are CD's which never come with a handy strip to pull which releases the enclosed CD from the confines of it's little plastic box. These boxes can be fiddly when it comes to getting the CD itself out as it's held inside with a weird little central 'hub' which has sort of plastic teeth on it. It can be quite difficult removing the CD from this 'hub' thing to such an extent that if you're not very careful you could damage the CD. And the 'teeth' of this 'hub' thing can break off very easily, because it's made of very fragile plastic which breaks off easily and if that happens it renders the thing useless, meaning the CD won't sit safely on it and so get damaged if the plastic case is dropped. If that's the case the whole case is useless.The same can be said of DVD cases and also trying to extract the confounded thing from a similar 'hub' which is as difficult to remove as a CD. You can break your fingernails if you have to try to open the plastic box the thing comes in which is just as annoying.

Butter and margarine comes in convenient plastic boxes. I know these products are more convenient than having blocks of butter which come in paper or foil which means you have to transfer them into butter dishes (do people do that today? I think my mother would have done that once upon a time, but that would have been in the 1970's.) These products also are handy because they spread easily from the fridge, but the little niggle I have is the horrible bit of paper they insist on inserting under the lid when you open it and sitting directly on top of the spread inside. What's the purpose of that? You just throw it away, or, if it's left inside, you have to lift it off every time you want to take out some of the spread.

Cellophane and plastic wrap seems to cause quite a few problems. Another example which often bugs me is what covers magazines. I have a couple of magazines which I subscribe to and they arrive by post. Getting into them can be difficult, but not necessarily opening them (again, not always come with a handy tag to 'pull' so the cellophane or plastic wrap will open easily, but if you're not careful you can tear the magazine within the packaging. On a couple of occasions the postman has shoved the magazine through our letterbox with such force that the magazine within the packaging is damaged or it may be it got damaged somewhere within the post office's sorting machinery. Then, once you've got inside the packaging and opened the magazine you often find a sheaf of leaflets which are annoying because you end up throwing them away. We recycle wherever possible, but generally these bits of paper are not for things we want to read or offers we need or want, much like the annoying leaflets for such things as pizza delivery services, double glazing or estate agents who insist that your house would sell easily, which I'm sure it wouldn't. All go in the recycling bin and are really a great waste of resources. Even if you buy a magazine in a shop, such as W.H. Smith, most magazines you buy from the newsstand have similar leaflets inside and I notice that Smith's now have a bin in their shops which are there to take these annoying leaflets as they fall out when you open the magazine.

At the petrol station. Why can it be so difficult to fill your car up with petrol? How is it, when you manage to remove the  petrol hose from it's holder on the pump, it can be incredibly difficult to pull the hose out of its housing? Why can't it remain a decent length enabling you to fill your car successfully? Also gripping the trigger-mechanism takes quite a bit of effort as it can be quite stiff and difficult to keep pressed so the petrol flows. This similar thing happens when you go to put air in your tyres, especially at our local Shell station. You need a 20p piece to operate the machine, which s reasonable I suppose price-wise, but attempting to pull the hose out can be tricky as it won't maintain a decent length so you can reach all four tyres. Particularly difficult when you need to get to the side of the car furthest from the air-pump machine. The hose keeps wanting to recoil itself when you let fo of it and you need to put a foot on it to stop it retracting into the machine. This job is difficult if done on your own which is why it's easier with a second person who stays with the machine as you need to be able to read the pressure of each tyre so as to make sure it is correct. Do the owners or manufacturers of this machinery not realise how difficult these operations are and perhaps modify them so as to improve them and make it easier for their users? The answer to that is 'probably not,' because most people never complain about these things.

More little niggles. How about this one? Pink bin bags. Those which are provided by Milton Keynes Council to put your recycled rubbish in. First of all, they come on a roll. A long roll and it can be difficult to find the perforations which you use to separate a single bag from the roll. Tear rather than pull, because if you don't you might rip the bag. The you have to peel the bag open, and because the plastic these bags are made of it's extremely difficult. I find that licking my finger helps so the separate sections allow the bag to open. As I say, these pink bags are very thin and flimsy, which means you have to be extra careful when you place your recyclable rubbish inside because otherwise it will tear and become worthless. Why do they have to be so flimsy and, therefore, easy to tear, allowing rubbish to spill out? Just ask those that provide them at Milton Keynes Council.