Hungry

I'm a tad peckish tonight. In fact I'm starving enough to eat the arse out of a three week dead Rhino. This is what the medico's call "fasting for a blood test". It's so I don't muck up the chemistry by eating the wrong things, etc. Apparently. All I know is, the furniture here would be looking pretty good right now if you put mustard on it.

And speaking of things healthy, I repeat my call to the medico's of this world, don't cotton-wool me unless you really want me going postal due to boredom and frustration. Went to see the departmental nurse today in Bradford and the horrible spectre of "light duties" is looming horribly over my head. The word "oh" seems to be manifesting in close conjunction with the word "no". And maybe even "damn". And may I go so far as to go a little "Foul ole Ron" and say "buggrit". Anyhooo, it's a while since I've been to Bradford. Last time I went, my bike was stolen. A very pretty town (city?) in my opinion. I really aught to go back, on a winters sunny day like today, with a good camera. There's plenty there for me. Even a pub. The irony was that after the GPS directed me needlessly through the agony of town centre traffic, the office to which I was headed was just fifty yards away from where I'd had my Kwakker's exhausts fitted all those years before. Anyway, once again the medico's seem determined to cover their own arses and not let me do anything interesting, which will probably mean a lot of bits of paper to process, having to watch the team go out on deployments without me and generally missing out on all the good stuff. Buggrit !