Mostly good news despite the weather

First off, the important news: Sally’s treats arrived today from Sue on Indigo Dream. We’ll have to wait until the weekend when we see her (Sally) next to find out what she makes of them, but they smell very tasty.

/hmm

No, I mustn’t! Must put them away before I start drinking tonight in case I get the munchies…

/wahaha

Now – after another bad night and worrying about my BP which remained rather high, I had a telephone consultation with one of the GPs at Willington. Several positives from this: first off, the Willington surgery has got its phone system well set up. No constant redialling when trying to get through first thing; you go into a queue and get told regularly where you are in it.

In practice, I only waited maybe five minutes and was then told one of the GPs would call between 8.30 and 11.30. In the event, Dr Farrar rang at nine and was very reassuring. It seems likely that I’ve had a virus which accounts for the crummy feelings and disturbed nights. She also told me to stop checking my BP so often; you can get into a loop of worrying about BP, check it, the anxiety has pushed it up and round and round you go.

I’m not to check it again for at least a week; although the readings I’ve had are high, they won’t do any harm in the short term, which is what I needed to know. It's a sign of cabin fever in me that my latent hypochondria comes to the fore; the best treatment will be some boating.

After all that, we took advantage of the fact that the bad weather had not yet arrived to walk into the village, collect a prescription from the surgery and pharmacy and do some routine shopping at the Co-op.

We just made it back before the rain really got going and have been lurking in the boat ever since.

The afternoon has gone quite quickly with the aid of another episode of Inspector Alleyn from Sheila’s box set, Death at the Bar. Not one of the best in the series but still very good, with lots of Cornish coastal scenery and steam train shots. The Bluebell Line must make a fortune from the sale of all those establishing shots of rural steam trains chugging along single tracks.

Tomorrow’s excitement is my final appointment at the dentist, once more kindly transported there by Ian Birks. Emma at the surgery called at lunch time to confirm that the crown had arrived from the lab; we had a back up appointment set up for Monday afternoon in case it was late, but it won’t be needed now.