It's on its way. Yipee.

Well yesterday was the shortest day so that means Summer is on its way. Yipee. But before I get carried away, I think I had better check how Christmas is doing.

Cards made and posted - check.

Presents all wrapped - check.

Food in cupboard and fridge - well apart from Christmas lunch, we're collecting the meat tomorrow, check.

Food for Christmas Eve - check. This year we are having an Italian Extravaganza. Homemade pizza, lasagna and tiramisu for dessert, and anyone who has ever tried my pizza knows that it will be a meal fit for a king. Now that my eldest two have left home, Christmas Eve is the only chance we get to sit down as a family.

Christmas cake made and iced - check.

So yes, it all seems to be under control this year. It's hard to believe last year was so very different.

Tale of two cities, a fairy tale.

Home-made Christmas continues. Daughter number 3 claims she has never, ever glittered and that I am a bad mother for not allowing her to cover my carpets with shiny stuff. So this year she made up for it by glittering all her friend's cards, especially her best male friend's (who is more Gok than, well Gok).


What hasn't gone well is the idea of homemade food presents. Daughter number 1 has a gall bladder problem and is on a restricted diet, Paula as we know is in hospital and sending cookies to Roo and FL given FL's sore mouth might be a tad cruel. I am currently trying to devise a Plan B.


Plan B may include elements of my latest fad, up-cycling or as some might say, good old-fashioned make do and mend. Once upon a time this princess went to parties and the occasional university ball. I had a gorgeous purple silk dress, which I was keeping for a special occasion. My choice of storage was not the best though. The plastic sealed crate kept out the moths and dust, but not the sunlight and my beautiful silk dress became sun bleached. I was going to throw it in the bin until I realised I could unpick the seams and use the silk panels "inside out".

Sun bleached patch. Photo doesn't capture the true colour purple!

I used two of the unpicked panels to line a basket which I bought from the local charity shop for £1.99!

I then filled the basket with wonderful goodies. Single Christmas puddings, jams, fruit teas, cakes, scones and pots of custard.

The basket was then taken, Little Red Riding Hood style off to a poorly patient.

The poorly patient was of course Paula in Liverpool and we did meet a wolf (of sorts) on the way too. As we arrived at Lime Street we spotted several policemen and one of them had a sniffer dog. "Crikey" I said to Mike, "what will he think of our basket of food? Maybe we'll get stopped." Before we reached the dog however, the "wolf" decided that a young gentleman, with his jeans hanging below his boxer shorts, was a far better meal. The "wolf" quickly wrapped the lead he was wearing around the young gentleman's legs and as we passed the officer was explaining to the gentleman what exactly it was that the "wolf" could smell!


We found Paula sitting up on the bed with several VERY large balls of yarn, busily knitting a horse blanket, well she said that was what her Auntie Anne had called it. She seemed in extremely good spirits and was hoping, everything crossed to be home for Christmas, with just the three weekly trips for dialysis. Luckily she didn't turn into the big bad wolf, although it was a possibility when B turned up with her requested sponge. When she opened the bag what should she find but a "body buffer" you know, those weird plastic net things that claim to exfoliate your skin.


My favourite moment though was while Mike was talking to Paula about getting curtains dry-cleaned. The little old lady across the ward was being visited by her husband. Enid was telling him she had had a shower that morning and then asked him "Have you had a shower today, only you smell of poo!" How do you laugh hysterically without drawing attention to yourself? Luckily Enid was very deaf!


After four hours of boring Paula and much later B. we decided around five o'clock that we should head off and find something to eat before getting the train home. We ended up having steak and chips in a Weatherspoons pub, before starting to walk back to the station. All would have been well, had we not spotted McHales, an Irish American bar we had first frequented during New Year 2005/6. A couple of pints later and we were dancing with the rest of the regulars. It seems that lots might have changed in the last 6 years, but the welcome in that bar isn't one of them. 


Only problem was we missed the train we were planning to catch and nearly missed the one after that!

Dough or should that be doh?

Mike: I'm going to feel like a fruit pastille later.
Lorna: How come?
Mike: Cos I'll be in a tube.

Boom-boom.

Yes today is the day Mike gets a MRI of his spine. Rather him than me! Breathe Lorna, breathe.

--------

Does anyone else have those moments when they go to a cupboard, drawer, box, (insert own container at will) to get an item they KNOW they have got only to discover they must have dreamt it at some point? Well I had one of those moments yesterday. As I mentioned I was testing the recipe for some Christmas biscuits, which were supposed to look like this:

I was 100% sure I had a star shaped cutter. Definitely got one, well definitely not. I should point out now that even if I had found my star cutter, they would not have been iced quite so perfectly! In the end I just used a good old round one.

I'm glad I test drove the recipe as it called for the biscuits to be egg washed, which personally I think looks awful. Daughter number 3 and I tried drizzling chocolate over them in an attempt to make the plain ones more interesting, the taste is like a poor shortbread. I also adapted the last bit of dough by adding almond essence (you probably guessed that from the flaked almonds!)

Back on track

Well after Tuesday's rather sobering post I thought I'd better get back on track and tell you all about my Christmas preparations. The card making is going well. I very quickly used up the eight cards I had bought from Lidl and had to move on to some much smaller ones, finances were such we could only afford small ones. I was going to show them to you, but I made a bit of a boo-boo by forgetting to take photos of most of the small cards before I sealed the envelopes, whoops. You'll just have to take my word for the fact they were fantastic!

One of the larger cards for "Special People"

I am still aiming for a certain degree of homemade Christmas but yesterday I realised that maybe a recycled Christmas might almost be as good. Now I know that for some people second-hand is "dirty" but if that were the case, why would anyone buy antiques? Why would you join a library? OK you get my drift. So yesterday we toured the charity shops. I have to say it was a very productive afternoon.

Well I'm off to test run the Christmas cookies, got to make sure they work and taste OK. I'll post photos tomorrow.

What a difference a day makes.

Today's contribution has very little to do with Mike and his Myeloma, other than to say that this time last year Mike was due to start his SCT holiday, but had been told there wasn't a bed and call back tomorrow. We called back tomorrow fourteen times in all, they didn't expect us to call weekends. No today it is all about me and a remark I put on facebook late Sunday evening. I quote:
"I had such fantastic plans when I was a naive thirteen year old. Thirty-five years later I am just sad I achieved nothing. Too late now."
That little remark caused a deluge of comments, which I appreciated, but I realised that there was no way I could explain the remark on facebook directly, there just isn't the space! So in the words of a singing nun "Let's start at the very beginning....."

When I was born in 1963, my parents were living with my maternal grandparents in what I recall was a lovely house opposite a field (Highfields School took the field over from what I can tell on Goggle maps.) I recall riding on the back of a neighbour's dog in the field and picking buttercups and daisies. By the time I was two and a half, I had been joined by two younger sisters who were only eleven months apart and my father had gone, leaving us for an older woman who didn't have children. More on that later*. In May 1966 my parents divorced and soon after the council offered my mother a 3 bedroomed flat in Blakenhall Gardens, those who know Wolverhampton, will know what became of them later.

The flats were brand new, with underfloor heating, a play area just outside and a fantastic launderette that we were given a weekly slot for. My dear nan and granddad decided to give up their lovely house and move into the flat next door, so that my mom would have help. In 1966 people still didn't get divorced and the stigma was immense. No charity for single mums back then.

Of course a third floor flat is not the best place for three young children and inevitably there were complaints from those living below and those living above about the noise and so in 1969 my mom was offered a house just a short walk away from the flats, which she took. It had a garden and three bedrooms, but the bathroom (and I mean a room with a bath) was off the kitchen downstairs and the toilet was outside. As a six year old it made no real difference to me. I just got on with life, as children do and it wasn't until I was older, maybe 10, that I realised things weren't quite right. My mom would never let me have friends round. No birthday parties for us. My sisters were like twins, so close in age they naturally bonded themselves together leaving me to play alone. I was late learning to read, but once I had mastered the art, I spent hours losing myself in the pages of a fantasy. I realise now that the reason we were not allowed friends was two-fold, my mom didn't have the money to feed another mouth and she was ashamed of the house. Things of course could only get worse.

In September 1974 it was off to "big" school. I had been decided by my teachers, my mom, my grandparents and because of their pressure, me, that I would be going to the grammar school, Wolverhampton Girls' High School. What a culture shock. I had attended a primary school where there were other children just as poor, a fair share of mixed race (even then),  Asian children who had to attend parents' evenings to translate for their parents and the more affluent children who's dads were doctors and lived on Goldthorn Hill. At WGHS there appeared to be no poor girls. No English as a second language (makes me giggle to think how they would have been dealt with). Minority group? I felt like I was it. The only way I could possible cope with the weight of it all was to lie. I am so ashamed to admit it, but that was what I did. I lied about my horse and my riding lessons. About an uncle who had a farm. I was caught lying and lost friendships but it didn't stop me I felt I had no choice. How could I tell the posh young ladies (we were all young ladies now) that I had to go outside to the loo and use a potty in winter as the toilet would freeze solid overnight, waiting for someone to pour a kettle of boiling water down it so the potties could be emptied. I dreamt of a much better life, but I was so naive. I heard on the news that miners got paid a fortune and so I jokingly told someone I was going to be a miner and get rich. I never lived it down. I wanted to be an astronaut or "Quincy" but I just wasn't bright enough. Time passed and things of course got worse.

By the time I started my periods on my 14th birthday the inevitable teenage hormones had started to cause the B.O. that so many adolescents suffer from. The weekly bath and only one set of school clothes meant keeping my uniform fresh was a real issue. My mom couldn't afford to heat the water for another bath during the week and so it was wash in the kitchen sink or nothing. But what pubescent girls wants to wash in the kitchen being watched by two younger, cruel, teasing sisters? How could I wash my clothes when I got back from school at half four in the evening and have them dry by 6:30 in the morning? So I did the best I could, but it wasn't really good enough, and so I became Pepe Le Pew.

In 1978 I did meet a boy at a youth club. Unfortunately I cannot remember his name. I wish I could, I would apologise to him if I could. You see this lad was black and the second my mom saw he had walked me home I was given a good slap and told if I ever saw him again she would throw me out. I never went back to the youth club, I wish I had, if only to explain it wasn't me. The trauma of that experience made me go to the hairdressers and have my hair cut like Servalan from Blake's Seven. Bearing in mind my hair was in pigtails up until this point, it was a very brave or stupid thing to do!

Servalan at her best.

We eventually moved out of that house in 1980 when the council finally decided to modernise it. I'm sure we were the last people in Wolverhampton to have an outside loo, but I can't prove it. Sixth form was therefore a much better experience, yet I still left school feeling inferior. I tried desperately to join the Civil Service, to no avail. I thought about the RAF, but the teacher in charge of careers said I wouldn't like it and I listened to her.

Now the point of all that waffling is that today I read Denise's post about regrets and I decided I don't want to have them. My past has left me with a feeling of inferiority, with an inability to make friends and keep them. But I can't keep letting my past determine my future. I want to forgive, if not forget what happened and I'd like all those I did wrong by in the past to do the same. So Ros, Michele, Janet, Debra, Julie (both of you), Heather and anyone else from school I've forgotten to mention who reads this, please forgive anything I may have said or done. My memory is very poor about most things relating to school, I reckon I've deliberately forgotten most of it, although I do recall Michele setting fire to her nails in Biology.

*I almost forgot to tell you more. When I was about to get married aged 21 (far too young) my mom informed me that it was my fault my father had left as he had never wanted children and so I was to blame for her not celebrating her 25th wedding anniversary! Oh yes, I was really wanted.
Well I am now. Thank you my darling Micky for showing me just how much you can love someone.

Ah-ha!

I think I now know what Little Miss P. has been doing instead of blogging.

I had read about "Graffiti Knitting" earlier this year and seen some of the evidence on the web thingy. The local group responsible for the Bullring's dressed bull had tried to do it "guerrilla-style" but had been marched away from the shopping centre before the bull could be clothed. You can read more about the group on their blog stitches and hos. I think he looks fabulous and maybe they should give local designers a chance to have a go. Gok Wan eat your heart out!

So soon?

Now Pat was a PROPER postman.

It seems I may need to get my skates on. Having checked with the enigma that is the Royal Mail, I appears that Monday 5th Dec is the last recommended day for Christmas post to Australia. That's airmail not surface mail! Mike didn't believe it could take so long. I  reminded him of the cheque book saga. I order new cheque book, two weeks later still no cheque book, phone bank and order another, five days later second cheque book arrives (I know this as I was told what the first cheque number would be). Two days later first ordered cheque book arrives, by which time I had already called bank and had said cheques cancelled. Oh yes, our postal service goes from strength to strength.

Our (by which I mean my) homemade Christmas is progressing very slowly. With the exception of the cake, which I made on "Stir-up Sunday" there is very little I can do yet on the food front for fear it won't keep. A bit of a nuisance as I planned to give food presents this year. At least I've made a good start on the cards, just as well given the above fact.



Eat your heart out Delia.

The above cake has already been "fed" with brandy twice. I might need to do the same if things don't pick up.

The Advent Calendar of Life.

Despite very severe digging in Mike's "floating" ribs he failed to pass on the following remark:
"For those of you who might recall my previous post about my memory, Dr Cook didn't play the ukulele or turn into an orangutan."

Well December has arrived and yet again we are all left wondering where the last year has gone. Last year we were getting ready for Mike's little holiday, and from Dec 6th onwards we opened the little door on the calendar and wondered if today was the day he'd get a bed. Thank goodness we don't have that to worry about this year. Instead we have others in Myelomaland in our thoughts. Most of you who read the blog will already know that Paula is poorly in hospital, that FL is waiting for his appointment and that Sean too is once more enjoying hospital food. There are others who we know, who don't blog like Sharon, who once again is trying yet another drug having had radiotherapy on yet another plasmacytoma. Yes life is definitely like an Advent calendar and none of us knows what is behind the door for tomorrow.

OK now that's been said I'll get onto something else completely different. Originally I planned to try and share my attempts to have a partial homemade Christmas, but I'm not sure I will have enough homemade stuff to show. So if you will all humour me, I'll do my best to keep you all entertained with my humble attempts.

Today I would like to share the wreath I have made for the front door:

I'm not sure how long it will last so I've got a back-up plan ready.

An awful lot of Myeloma

Hi again to the world. This last few days has seen Lorna and I immersed in a whole load of Myeloma.
Firstly we spent several days putting together the CD's we are doing of the "Crossroads" single Lesley Roley recorded for us. The art work and the Technical stuff was done by the intelligent half of the relationship,(Lorna, for those who don't know us) and I did the E:drive in and outs with the CD's and pressed the copy button. Then it was off on Friday night to the Hilton Hotel at Birmingham NEC for the meet and greet session prior to the full Myeloma info day starting at 9.30 on Saturday morning.
A funny thing happened on the way to the meet and greet session. I had booked a hotel close to the Hilton, as it was FAR to expensive to stay there. Only "close" was a £15 taxi ride, because my knowledge of B'ham is a bit sketchy after only living there for 50 years! Things have moved a lot in the last 6 years, well I'm sticking to that as my excuse. We met Ellen and Rebecca from Myeloma Uk, who kindly bought us a beer and a wine, and we also met Kevin and Ann, fellow Myeloma patient and wife and we all had a lovely chat about 8 mile runs and things....... not mine or Lorna's I hasten to add, as we are only play walkers.
Saturday morning we replaced the £15 taxi with a £3.60 bus ride, the wisdom of which will be discussed later. This was followed by a 1000 metre sprint..... well fast walk, across the NEC to the hotel. An interesting point that we encountered at this juncture, was that the "Good Food Show" and the "Motorcycle Show live" (not sure what a "dead" bike looks like but still) were both on in tandem with our Myeloma event, so the crowds were a tad on the crowded side as we walked through.
We managed to arrive for the Info Day on time and we sat at the front next to a couple of the celebrities..... well Dr.Mark Cook from UHB Queen Elizabeth Hospital and Dr. Supratik Basu, my consultant from New Cross Wolverhampton. It was a very informative morning, with Dr. Cook talking about current therapies and how survival rates are hopefully on a steady upwards trend.
Just before the morning recess I was invited to take the mike, (no not a dig at the celebrities, I meant hold a microphone) and tell the gathering about the lovely CD's they could have if they made a suggested donation of £5 to Myeloma research. AND WHAT A SPEECH IT WAS!!! Well it must have been because  10 people made a donation and walked away with a wonderful CD ;-), but that does mean we still got 10 left....lol.

After lunch they had arranged breakout sessions with the various celebs, and we felt compelled to follow Dr. Basu to his "side effects and complications" question and answer session as I had got to attend a Monday @3.20 Appointment in his clinic, and wanted his best affections....lol. One of the really pleasing aspects was that he was happy to recommend that his patients (;-) ) go swimming regularly for exercise.... something I really enjoy......WHOOPEE!
When the day was over, we fought back through the crowds at the NEC rail station and stood on the train all the way home, more on the wisdom of that too, later.

Today was the "Later" I was on about. I attended my 3.20pm appointment with Dr. Basu at his clinic, and started the conversation with "Hello stranger". At the Info day Dr. Basu had informed us that he always starts his patients appointments with "Your paraprotiens are...." (he lied) so as usual I asked him! Despite going in a week earlier to give bloods, they were still not available, so we had to go with October's which were a reading of less than 2 again..... Whoopee, no I mean WHOOPEE really, cause it means I'm still holding. The rest of my results were in this time though, and not all brilliant news.  My HB is at 12.6(still below what it should be at a minimum of 13.5) my platelets are back down to 80 from 125 and I'm apparently immuno-suppressed, and banned from public areas such as buses, trains and swimming pools, hence the "later" earlier.   :-(
The hip pain I have been suffering lately means I have to be scanned by the MRI machine thing as soon as it can be arranged.
On the PLUS side my creatinine is down from 180 to 145, that's my Kidney function improving, meaning all the Bacardi I swill through em is WORKING!!!!!!!!

Solutions

I thought I'd update you all with the solutions to last weeks photos. Unfortunately I am still practically brain-dead and can't think of what to put on this week, so you'll have to give me a bit more time.

OK, last week we had...... drum roll.......

A simple pineapple and melon moment.

What's That!?! 9

A bit late in the day, but I finally remembered to post the answers to last week's photos.
I'll start with the second photo which was of course Toni's tummy.

 It turns out that Jack Russells have something called "ticking" on their underbellies. When we first got her, she was often called Toni cow. 

The first photo was Capsella bursa-pastoris, or Shepherd's-purse. I knew about this little plant long before I ever saw it. As a child I like many others in the 60's and 70's lived in a world made up of The Magic Faraway Tree, The Wishing Chair, where pixies, goblins, humans and fairies, sorry Paula, furries, all lived side by side. Enid Blyton may no longer be "PC" but she was a very important part of my childhood. Reading and the characters the books contained, were often my only friends. One of my favourite books when very young was The Adventures of Pip, a rather mischievous pixie who often seemed to get into trouble with his friend Jinky, much to the horror of his Aunt Twinkle. In one adventure, Pip used a purse from a shepherd's-purse as a replacement for his Aunt's, which he had lost.

It was that very book that also taught me how to recognise a male blackbird (they dipped their bills in liquid gold) and male sparrows with their black bibs.

This week I give you:

Yes, I remember it well.

I have been meaning to blog about a dream I had for weeks now, but I just kept forgetting to do it. My memory is so bad these days that I have to get Mike to remind me to write a list and then make sure I've got it and then make me use it while I go round the shop and then check it's all out of the trolley and, oh I forgot before we leave the house make sure I have my purse. I think you will all have the picture by now. It turns out that it is all because of my "little op" last year. I had tried a couple of strengths of the standard HRT tablets issued (turns out they are 60 years old and based on the urine of pregnant mares from Kentucky.) They really hadn't suited me at all so after only a month I gave up, thinking "it's only hot flushes I can cope!" Well after 6 months I decided I couldn't cope and it wasn't just the sweats that were a problem, it turns out that the lack of hormones has caused a communication breakdown between my brain, which thinks it is still on honeymoon, and the relevant area responsible with such things. So back to see the doctor who looked EXTREMELY embarrassed at the thought that I might have such depraved thoughts and came up with a prescription which I duly took away. All might have well had I not read the word "bromide" at the end of it's long chemical name. I reckon he thought if he could just keep me quiet.......

So Mike decided that obviously the NHS wasn't going to help me and so we searched for someone to see privately. Eventually we found a female doctor who specialised in gynaecological endocrinology. The Australia fund took a hit, but she soon had it all sussed. It was she who told us about the horse's pee and that not everyone's liver can process it into the right hormone. She asked how my short term memory was and Mike piped up "well she goes to make me a cup of coffee and 45 minutes later I'm still waiting because she's forgotten what she went to do." Yes it is bad. I might remember to make it and then forget to carry it through. At the end of the consultation she wrote to my GP telling him what to prescribe. I went to see him the other day and he duly gave me a prescription, typically enough there is a manufacturing problem and Boots (our national chain of chemists for those outside the UK) cannot get hold of any. Good old Mike rang around all day yesterday and finally managed to track some down fifteen miles away. Why didn't I get the doc to change the prescription? Well he only knows what to prescribe as he was given the name and there is a seven day wait for non-urgent appointments and changing your prescription is non-urgent by definition of the receptionists.

Back to the dream. Mike and I are off to the Myeloma UK infoday in Birmingham at the end of the month and I dreamt that we had been joined by Paula and Bernard. It was very busy and Mike decided as he had an awful lot of writing to do that he should sit at the table while P, B and me sat on the floor with our backs against the wall, a bit like being back at school. Dr. Mark Cook from the QE in Birmingham was up first to talk about current treatments. He stood there in an orange Myeloma UK T-shirt and started to play his ukulele. It was at this point I noticed how his underarm hair was visible at the edge of his sleeves and how his hair and beard seemed to be become more bushy and ginger, so much so that he eventually looked like an orang-utan. Mike kept saying how informative and knowledgeable Dr. Cook was and how he was learning so much. Meanwhile P turned to me and said “Gosh he’s furry.”

What's That!?! 8

OK, it seems What's That!?! has a small, but nevertheless important, cult following. So by popular demand I give you these little beauties:

No more What's That!?!

Are we really up to week 8? Are you all bored with the game now? I suspect we have all had enough of it by now, so last week will be the last.

I better put you all out of your misery and provide the solution to the second picture from last week, as I suspected the first was super easy, the second one had you all stumped.

Yes the second photo was some of the card making kit that I bought from Lidl for the grand price of £1.49. For that I got four cards and envelopes and a load of things to stick on. Yes that's right, I've started getting ready for Christmas and as I blogged the photo last week I believe that means I was first to mention it Little Miss Ho Ho Ho.

I am of course now kicking myself for not buying more. I hadn't realised how easy it was to make your own cards and make them very individual at the same time. I would love to share them with you, but that would spoil the surprise when your very own card makes it's way to you.

If any of our readers have any good ideas for home made presents or wants a Lorna original for Christmas, just leave us a message. As I mentioned before, all comments are moderated and so if you do leave us a private message we will never publish it's contents.

I'll leave you all with a pic of my home made toffee. It's the everlasting, stick your teeth together stuff that we always had as kids for Bonfire Night. (There was no such thing as Halloween when I was a girl.) At least it should keep those pesky trick or treaters quiet.

Feel good.

Not only do I get to feel good about the fact I am currently only a third of a percent of those eligible in England (yes that means only 3 in 1000 are registered as bone marrow donors) I also get a funky blue card to carry around with me. Watch out people of Wolves, I intend to flash it whenever possible and hopefully get a few more joining in.

18 to 40? painless to register, just a quick swab inside the cheek.





What's That!?! 7

OK I know it's the 21st and in the past I would have been posting photos of my garden, but to be honest there isn't alot to show you. I haven't got the hang of year round growing so with the exception of one leek and raspberries which are still growing, still ripening and yet have no flavour, there is nothing to see. I'd like to say next year will be different, but I'll probably fail yet again. Story of my life, a heap of good intentions which inevitably end in either disaster or a bag at the back of the under stairs' cupboard. I wish like Roo and Paula I could actually finish my projects. I mean come on, Paula has been ill and look what she gets done!

Back to the answers to last week's teasers.

An apple and cinnamon teabag. Which makes the old tea strainer rather redundant. I know how it feels.

This week I have at least one easy photo. They might both be easy, who can tell.

What's That!?! 6

Last week I shared a couple of photos with you. This is what they were:

A mini grater that came with a mug and hot chocolate. A novelty Christmas pressie I received a couple of years ago.

A ginger nut. No not from next doors tom cat, but a biscuit which Mike is extremely fond of, well with a bit of help from Toni, he can get through a pack in one sitting.

This week's brain teasers are:

This last picture is not so much a "What's That" as a "What on Earth happened?".

Two tomatoes, one stalk. No photoshop has been used or abused!

What's That!?! 5

As some kind soul suggested, last week's photo was indeed a nasty patch on Mike's skin, that appeared about six weeks after his SCT. Nothing seemed to help and eventually he was referred to a dermatologist. The only trouble was, that by the time they eventually saw him, the patches had gone away.

So the answer to last week's puzzle was:

A red onion. I didn't have a picture of Mike's patches, but I swear they were very, very similar to the close up from last week.

Talking of Mike, the nice gastro man decided that a course of steroids might help. Although not as bad as dex, they are still making him eat anything not nailed down. It is going to be an expensive six weeks! They seem to be giving him horrendous night cramps too. I wouldn't mind, but his screaming wakes me up. When we saw SB on Monday Mike mentioned the cramps, who said everything looked fine on his bloods and that he didn't think quinine was a good idea given Mike's history.

Look at me rabbiting on about medical stuff when you all came to see what this week's photo is.

I couldn't decide which one to use so I'll have two this week.

Oh and I'm still waiting for homemade gift suggestions.

For Roo and FL

After reading Roobeedoo'sblog today I thought of this song:

 http://youtu.be/lTi3bRKohQU

I think it might just say it all.

What's That!?! 4

It cannot possibly be Friday already! Where does the time go? At this rate it'll be Christmas. I really must make an early start this year. Maybe make should be the operative word, but what? Suggestions gratefully received.

Any way let's have a look at the answer to last weeks puzzle.

I rather liked Sandy's idea of 12 worms heading for lunch. It is fascinating that a poppy head resembles a clock, did mankind borrow the idea or is it coincidence? You've got to admire Mother Nature.

This week I would like to share this with you all.

Do you know what it is?

This photo was actually on a leaflet that I was given when I signed up to be a bone marrow donor. It is a baby stem cell in the eye of a needle. WOW.  To think they expect people to produce millions and millions of them just so they can have a SCT. It's a wonder there is enough space in the blood!

This week's photo is an easy one (I think.) Extra points for comical answers will be given as I need a bit of a cheer-up.

What's That!?! 3

OK here's the answer to last week's puzzle. I'm happy to say that luckily it wasn't yet another medical condition for Mike.

That fig is one of my very own, from my very own fig tree as mentioned here. The two decent sized figs ripened at about the same time and we were going to share, but Mike was too slow and so I ate his too.

So what about this week's photo?