2007 — 2 July: looking for perfect scansion

Today's the day She who must be adored gets her CT scan. I hope She smiles for the "camera". The consultant has asked for a report later this afternoon as he can call in to scrutinise it en route to an operation in Winchester. Busy chaps these chaps.

I also hope She'll let them give her painkiller tonight if She's still in — I've told Her there's a reason it's called that.1

Meanwhile, Life sort of goes on (as ever). The Fast is Broken, and the Guardian skimmed. The junk mails discarded. Junior's latest batch of PC depredations are settling down. Minor domestic necessities have been obtained. The £200 health insurance excess from the initial batch of treatment has been mailed. As has the (late) snailmail to dear Mama. <Ho-bloody-hum!>

Still, at least there's a TV programme profiling the late Joyce Grenfell this evening. That should be a bit of a hoot.



1  She's an unbelievable unwimp!