All I need is my baby

Well, I'm still around. I've now eaten and slept for the first time in a few days, although not much of either. Together with the painkillers and the overuse of a bronchodilator this has resulted in a certain detachment from the real world. What better way to write a blog posting?

Epictetus has not been without offers of nursing care, but this obviously poses a bit of a scheduling nightmare; I am not in the mental state necessary to guarantee avoiding unfortunate meetings on the doorstep and thus I've declined most such suggestions so far. I did have a brief visit from the younger Miss Epictetus (who, by the way, is building up to running her first marathon on Sunday) and have otherwise managed by myself. Obviously not eating means no need to shop, so that's one problem solved. I could probably do with hanging out the washing that's been in the machine since Tuesday though.

For those who know Leeds, I was in Jimmys. I won't bore you with the details except to say that the CT scan was extremely peculiar. Not unpleasant - as for example MRI scans are - but most odd. Anyway, I've posted several versions of St James Infirmary Blues in the past so here's Humble Pie and "I Don't Need No Doctor":