From Southwark Grumblers HQ

Well. My burn seems to be healing, but I run out of antibiotics today. Not great timing, because last night I noticed that my throat was sore, and this morning I woke up with a very sore throat, runny nose and a slight temperature. Though I haven't had one for years, I suspect that with the kidney infection and the infected burn, my resistance was low, particularly after waiting in the surgery the other day. Seems there are some bugs which a flu jab doesn't help with.

Feeling like total crap this morning I decided to stay in bed, so texted Romy. Crawled up for a bath, then emailed some snaps to Romy which she may be able to use in the spring newsletter. Last night, watched a programme about crying on BBC Four with the ubiquitous Father Ray, being interviewed by Jo Brand. She in turn became very defensive when interviewing Susy Orbach. I quite warmed to Susy Orbach. Less so to Father Ray, who seems rather a condescending cold fish. Dear me, here I go again, slagging off a fellow damaged human. I do need to have some fun, though.

Yet another discussion this morning on the radio about the appalling care of elderly folk in hospital. It's as though nobody knew what was going on all the time. I have previously reported visiting someone's mother left to lie in her own faeces because the nurse was on duty alone and 'it takes two people to change the sheets'. She was also starving, as witnessed by how fast she ate the food we brought, and died after a few days of this neglect, though she had been fairly well before. These practices seem to go on everywhere. Takes too long to change and feed people, and not a popular job, I expect. When my mother was dying in hospital I had to keep calling the staff to change her sheets, which they did, albeit reluctantly. Perhaps trainee doctors and nurses should do several months as ward auxiliaries, performing these functions, to test their 'vocation' before being allowed to train further. Hmmm. Rant over.