Saturday mainly consisted of the brother-in-law and I almost crying with laughter fitting a shower at mothers place. We got the tray own eventually on a bed of concrete. Tiling is being an ass. Last night we had a BBQ at Lisa’s where the main topic of conversation was Tesco’s. Today I picked up some waste pipe and tile adhesive and headed over to mothers. Apparently the neighbour had been over mulling over property deeds. I phoned him. Apparently he didn’t want us wasting money at putting a gate up if we had to move it again. I said we had no intention of moving it. He then phoned again later, I explained that if he wanted to pursue this line of attack that severe costs would be involved and I would claim all of them back against him, he was quite taken aback by this. I then said his timing was perhaps somewhat inappropriate and that he should be more considerate. He said it was not his intention to annoy me, I said that’s actually what he had done so I was going to terminate the call with immediate effect, I hung up. He called several hours later to apologise and say that the most important thing was that my mother gets better. I’ve now blocked him, he’s on the back-foot and gone all defensive, that’s exactly where I want him.

One false move and I will absolutely destroy him.

I will even take pleasure in doing so.

Must admit, work today wasn’t too bad. Just cracked on with it. Got pissed off waiting for a phone call back from the surgery place so phoned them. Now have an appointment with a spinal specialist. Walked Sasha. Walked to Pump. That was quite embarrassing, I forgot to take any tablets so I spent most of it just standing there like a complete turnip. I did do all the chest and arm tracks though. Did a bit more work. I think work will explode sooner rather than later, I’m just not sure what the fallout will be and who it will hit.

So I eventually got a call from the surgical people and they got me an appointment next Wednesday to see a specialist. Half hour later the specialist’s secretary rang me direct and said the specialist was a knee specialist so knew bugger all about my condition. I rang the surgical people, they then rang the secretary, and canceled the appointment. They are going to refer me to a back specialist. I really don’t give a shit as I want an MRI. I just have a feeling that I’m never actually going to get one. Work was a complete ass today, complete ass. Walked Sasha until the point just up the road where she darted clean in front of me, directly at my leg, knocking me over in great pain. She got a severe whack and had to be dragged back home. Went out with Shaun in the evening to spend a shit load of money on mothers shower. Came back and did more work. I’m now sat on the couch unable to move.

Can’t really complain at the start of the day, all sort of went according to plan. Walked Sasha, nice day today. Soon it was time for my ‘video appointment’ with the private doctor. He was some Indian chap who couldn’t be arsed to wear a tie. I went through all my symptoms and how it all started and he diagnosed me with sciatica, which after researching it makes a lot of sense, with the initial numbness and stuff. Oddly the NHS doctor I saw a while ago never mentioned this at all. I was told it could take up to a year to heal. But my concern is there is no improvement whatsoever in the past three months and if I wait twelve and nothings improved then it could be something more serious. So he’s referring me to a specialist and I will have an MRI done etc. I’ve been paying private medical insurance for years and never made a claim, it’s going to cost me forty quid excess, I’ll live with the loss. If I get a scan and it is just nerve damage then I know how to tackle it, basically ignore it. There’s no damage to the underlying muscle and it really is all just in the mind. Physio is pointless, so I’ll discontinue that. Went out for a walk this evening. Came back and did the very gay thing of watching the football. Wales really did hold their own during the first half and I think were the better side. But now in the second half, two goals down in ten minutes. I think it’s all over.

This morning was better than yesterday, a little bit anyway. I managed to finally log into my Vitality health thing and after contacting user support managed to log into the GP app. The problem was I had ‘at’ signs in my password and the app didn’t support that. Anyway, I have a video appointment with a GP bloke tomorrow. I want to get some scans done, so he better refer me or I’ll start creating hell via a backdoor method. Walked Sasha. This evening I walked to the hospital to see mother. Her swelling has gone done, I think she’s actually doing better than she makes out, but isn’t putting a great effort in. She’s moaning about her room, she has the only single room on the ward, she also has an absolutely cracking view. No one else has a TV or private toilet either. Walked home. Ate salad.

So started vaguely on time. Some interesting internal personnel issues that I’m not going in to. The day was pretty shit. Started shit, continued shit and ended shit. Walked Sasha, my leg was killing me. Walked to Combat, basically stood still but did all the upper body stuff. Walked home. Did some more work. Did the accounts. I’m now up to Saturday on my Glastonbury followup and just finished ‘Adele’. She warbled through all her hits, God that chick has a filthy gob on her. Tomorrow I imagine will be equally shit. I’m arranging a video consultation with a GP from my private medical insurance, trying to get a referral for a full MRI and ultrasound and then hopefully on to surgery.

Saturday started with physio. Then coffee with Laverne. We had a good chat. Her bunny boiler stalker was there and tried to butt in constantly. She’s now actually tried to ‘friend’ me on Facebook, so now as this a direct action I’m going to have a word with her and probably destroy her. Sarah and I then went to visit mother. Her leg is very inflamed, looks like it’s going to burst. I’m sure it’s just the healing process, but she needs to make the effort with the physio or she’ll never go anywhere. I know what she’s like and will moan forever more and just expect it to ‘work’. The four of us went to the pub last night and drank too much, it was a good night. We walked home and I went straight to bed.

I had breakfast at about half eight and was out with Sasha at nine. I really don’t do hangovers, I’m a professional alcoholic. Mother is apparently moaning that she’s been moved into a small room with no on-suite and no television. Now. You’re not going to like this. Call me a cunt if you wish. But out there somewhere, some poor man’s mother, grandmother or aunt has just had a really nasty fall and broken her hip. He probably won’t be cracking any jokes about sending her to a cemetery and will be really grateful that the ambulance people have taken her to A&E and they are looking after her really well. He’ll also be pleased that there is a space on orthopaedics and she’ll be operated on tomorrow. So here is my point. She was very well looked after and operated on immediately. She hasn’t recovered as quick as everyone would like. But I’m afraid she’s not in mega pain and on a shitload of morphine anymore. I don’t want to here all this ‘well what about if it was your mother’, it is my mother, she doesn’t have private medical insurance and she was treated bloody brilliantly. Selfish? No, not at all, I’m just thinking that someone else really requires that bed. No she isn’t in a state to come home, she may have to spend a week next to a filing cabinet without a toilet or TV. I’m sure she will still receive excellent care. But I’m sorry, I know what she’s like. She expects the bloody thing to heal itself and she’ll be tangoing in no time, but she just doesn’t put in the effort. Physio is fucking painful. My therapist usually has me crying in pain by the end of the session. She enjoys it. I don’t. But I’m still booked in next weekend.

So, to today. Well Shaun and I (that’s the B-I-L dear readers) started at B&Q buying plumbing shit. We then basically spent the best part of ten hours together in a small bathroom. Ripping out a bath, tiles and dodgy plaster. By the end of it we have the plasterboard all up and ready to tile. I’m sixty quid down, completely buggered my leg to the point I’ve now had to down co-dydramol and wine to take the pain away. But to be honest, with the state of the walls, we made a bloody good job of it. There’s a few bits of touching up to do, but by the time it’s tiled it’ll be fine. But I just know, we could present her with the ultimate shower room, all converted and ramps everywhere, and she’ll open her big fucking gob and say ‘you got cement on my carpet’ and I’ll want to kill the bitch. Sorry folks, but I’m ‘case hardened’, and I’m afraid there’s nothing in the world that will change my views.

So started a bit late. Got my leg was playing up this morning. We had a very very very long discussion about stuff. I eventually came up with a solution. Then everyone started blaming each other and making excuses, so I told the all to shut the fuck up and get on with it. It all went silent. I walked Sasha. Then had a very in-depth conversation about ‘bloom’, it was very dull. Took a couple of ibuprofen and walked to Pump. Did that, didn’t suffer too much. Then came home and did more work, as that’s all that’s in my life, sleep-work-gym, I have no time for anything else. I guess I’m destined to die providing all my work is checked in and the hours logged correctly.

This week I’ve been going through ‘Friday’ on the BBC iPlayer for Glastonbury. Every act, on every stage. I do this every year to see if there is any ‘new music’ that takes my fancy. Probably out of about forty hours of music I only found one band that I’d listen to again (if I’m not already), that’s ‘Ratboy’, sounds like early ‘Green Day’. On to Saturday next week.