Dangerous threesome in typical pose on the Whipsnade train: Dot and Oliver pose for the camera while Amy is suddenly interested in something else entirely. I was minding the buggy while the train set off on its 20-minute journey and the rain started to fall after what had up to then been a very pleasant day. Well, it continued to be pleasant: it just became wet.
Yesterday I went for my cystoscopy, with results that turned out to be “normal” – or as normal as you can be with a camera in your bladder. Uncomfortable, but not exactly painful. He was in and out so quickly that it was hard to see how he could be so sure. Still, ours not to reason why; ours but to do, and hopefully stay alive. Halfway through the afternoon I got a call from the hospital telling me my operation is scheduled for next Monday, which came as a bit of a shock. Interesting how you can be quite blasé about having your prostate out in three weeks’ time, but be reduced to a quivering wreck when told it will be next week. Fortunately Diane, who is giving me some spiritual healing, turned up at just that point, so I had to sit down and relax. Hard to turn my mind off, though. I was working out what would have to be cancelled, who I’d have to tell, what I needed to sort out and so on. In fact if all goes well having it next week will be ideal, because I should be recovered in time for most of the summer events.
I e-mailed the Murrays to tell them what was happening, only to discover that Roger has not been at all well and may have something similar – so they probably won’t be coming in August anyway. Dot had quite a conversation with them on the phone and is very disappointed, as she’d hoped we could celebrate my recovery!
Today we finished watching a TV epic called Flood, which is all about London being inundated by a sea surge. Full of holes (ha!) and not very satisfactory. Instead of fleeing to high ground and drowning on the way, why didn’t everyone go into the nearest building? The first floor would probably have done.
We’ve just been to the supermarket to pick up food for tonight. Quite an oppressive day, or maybe I can’t get the operation out of my mind.
