So it was off to the surgery first thing for me this morning; at ten past eight I was queuing at the door, and first in when they opened at quarter past. The result was an appointment later in the morning, when I had a thorough chat with Dr Mulligan, my regular adviser Dr Mager-Jones being away.
The upshot was a change of drugs yet again, in the continuing battle to make my BP behave. At least, since we’re staying nearby for the winter, it won’t be too much hassle to call back while we tinker with dosages and the like.
Apart from that, not much is going on. Highlight of the day was an amble down the towpath to offload some stale bread on the ducks. Alrewas has a particularly mixed population, a testament to the mallard talent for cross breeding, and they fight vociferously for the crumbs. I like to throw the bits into the air, so that they all swim round madly, in some cases leaping up out of the water in an attempt to get their beaks on the booty first.
It’s a bit reminiscent of a loose maul in rugby, and I have to keep my lips pressed together to stop myself from coming out with a dire imitation of the late lamented Eddie Waring:
“Eaaayyy… it’s an up and under!”
More prosaically, we ran a washload, and the machine proceeded to behave itself on the programme it was refusing to do before. In one way, this is a relief, but in another a pain – it looks as if we have an intermittent fault. I guess we’ll just wait and see if it repeats itself. Once more, it’s a blessing we’ll be in the marina, and can call out the engineer from Zanussi if it starts again.
Tonight we go to see Sally at agility class, then up to Fradley tomorrow.
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