I am rarely one to complain about my health and visits to hospitals, which I must admit is rather commendable, considering how many appointments I need to attend.
However, I must admit that it does seem a tad unfair, that it feels like I am the only one who has to make visits to see doctors. Therefore, I didn’t feel guilty when the time came along for Roman to make his biannual trip to the vets.
It was just like The Yorkshire Vet TV series – except we’re not in Yorkshire, have no connections to James Herriot and was not being filmed for television.
The purpose of Roman’s summer trip to the veterinary surgery, was to be given his yearly jab for RHD1 and myxomatosis.
The nasty Mxyo virus.
It must not be forgotten that Roman is also a massive tart and likes nothing more than to show off to his doting parents and anyone else who enters his domain (previously known by Claire and I as “the front room”).
Due to Roman’s vanity and the fact he is unable to speak for himself (although he’s working on that), I asked the vet, on Roman’s behalf, if his nails could be clipped. That’s right – he had his nails done. Like a woman.
Despite all the jokes, taking any animal to the vets can be a very traumatic experience for them. I am therefore pleased to report that Roman was very well behaved and I am extremely proud of him.
Right from the start, when my dad asked him to get into his carry case, the cute little bunny just hopped in, without causing a fuss.
I held Roman in his carry case, for the car journey between our home and the vets. He remained calm for the drive, although did get a little frightened when some stupid woman drove out in front of us, causing my dad to break hard. To be fair to Roman, I was a bit shocked too!
The last time Roman attended the surgery, he was admired by people, who were also visiting the vets, and spotted him in his box.
It was exactly the same situation today. As we waited to be called into the consulting room, onlookers noticed Roman’s little face peering through the carry case door, knowing all too well he would get attention. He was showing off, he knew it and he was loving it.
Roman. So cute, he makes the cat from Shrek 2 look like Katie Hopkins.
Compliments for the “dwarf breed” rabbit included many uses of the word “cute”, as well as a lovely comment of “other people’s pets always look better than your own”. I can honestly say that since owning Roman, I have never thought that. In fact, I often find myself thinking the opposite. Looking at bunnies I would once find adorable, I now think to myself “Roman is much better looking than that rabbit”.
The time spent with the vet went fast – thanks in no small part to Roman’s impeccable behaviour. The little lad was a bit scared at times, but that’s to be expected. If a strange giant was trying to inject me and cut my nails, I’d shit myself. Despite getting frightened, Romy didn’t leave any of his bottom raisens on the examination table.
Roman is more used to being on the opposite side of the veterinary table.
His next trip to the surgery is February, when he will be immunised against RHD2. Don’t feel sorry for him. By the time Roman next visits the vets, I will have probably been to see doctors and consultants five thousand times.
Is it possible to get scooter rage, in the same way you can experience road rage? Of course it is.
My commute to work this morning was slightly delayed, when I had to stop my mobility scooter at the top of my street, as what looked to be the biggest coach in the world, started to reverse down the road I was intending to cross. It had clearly taken a wrong turn down the main road and was hoping to turn around.
The coach belonged to the company who provide away travel to Bath City fans and players. I have always found them to be very good, and to be fair to the driver this morning, he performed the very tricky maneuver safely.
Despite my confidence in the driver, I did not fancy the chances of my scooter and I, against a massive bus. As a result, I had to show patience and wait.
Someone who was unable to show patience, was a white van man, driving up the main road, adjacent to my street, which at the time was being blocked by the coach, as it turned around.
What an idiot that WVM is! We’ve all had to wait for the coach to move, but we don’t all start behaving like a petulant child.
I’m not a massive fan of the White Van Man at the moment. On my return home from a recent medical appointment, the path of my scooter was blocked by a van…
Chilling parking
What the photo doesn’t make clear is that there is ANOTHER van (parked equally badly), in front of the one which I snapped. Oh, and yes, it is a double yellow line they’re parked on.
As a result of the two vans parking on the pavement, I had to squeeze my scooter alongside the vehicles, driving through part of the hedge. There is no pavement on the opposite side of the road, so an alternative route home was not an option for me.
The WVM may argue that he had nowhere else suitable to park. That may or may not have been the case. Whatever. Just because there is nowhere legal to leave the van, I don’t feel that it is fair to block a pavement, forcing pedestrians to find an alternative route for themselves.
Considering this was on a hospital site, it is highly likely that there would be other patients who use a scooter or wheelchair, and would encounter the same problem as me.
There. I’ve said my peace on white van men – for now…
Finally, if you are a driver of any vehicle and are approaching a zebra crossing, with pedestrians on the pavement, waiting to cross, I am sure you know what to do? Slow down safely and stop. I didn’t get 95% on my theory test for just looking pretty!
It would be pretty rude, as well as against the law, to carry on driving and not stop at the crossing, right? I am sure we can all agree on that.
Here’s the part some of you probably don’t know. Or maybe the vast majority of people are aware, and it’s only the rude woman I encountered this morning who isn’t…
If there are people waiting at a zebra crossing, while you approach, it is NOT cool to drive past without stopping. This behaviour is not excused by lifting your hand up, as if to thank the pedestrians for tolerating your inconsiderate driving.
Wow… I really can sound very cross and grumpy, once I start ranting. The truth is, all these thing caused just a mild annoyance, apart from the vans on the pavement, which is a huge bugbear of mine.
While all the events in this post are all 100% factual, I was grateful to at least have something to blog about – as you may have noticed, I have been struggling for material lately.
Finally, I am in now way portraying myself to be a good car driver. I’m no Lewis Hamilton. Firstly, I pay my taxes. Secondly, despite holding an automatic driving licence, I haven’t been behind the wheel of a car since 2014. Maybe it is best just to stick to my scooter and Grand Theft Auto.
“Rain”, they said. “Thunderstorms”, they promised. What weather did we get today? Sun. Not just any old sun, but fecking hot sun.
This sun that would gorgeous, should you be on holiday, with an ice cold drink in your hand. I am not on holiday. I am at work all week. My office has no air conditioning, neither does my house.
Instead of a frozen exotic fruity drink, I’ve been making do with a mug of coffee. Normally I enjoy coffee, but in this heat? Naah, you’re alright. No wonder Italians drink espresso. You get the caffeine hit, but in a far smaller dose (or should that be ‘serving’?). Plus espresso normally tastes bloody brilliant.
I am now in bed. I am as good as naked, apart from a pair of underpants and some socks. This is the price that I am paying, in order to prevent my internal organs from cooking from within me, while I sleep.
I generally like to wrap up in lots of clothes and a duvet when going to bed. All this dressing up is partly down to my fear of spiders. If one was to crawl on me at 3am, while I am wearing jammies, chances are I won’t feel it – unless it is some mutant spider, in which case I am as good as dead anyway. By going to sleep practically nude, I am literally exposing myself to all manner of scary creatures, while at my most vulnerable.
As well as spiders, I am also at the mercy of woodlice, earwigs, moths, slugs, snails and puppy dog tails. Actually, can I change that last one to “bunny rabbit tails”?
Even writing those last few paragraphs, I feel like there are spiders on my skin! In that case, I think it’s best that I face my demons and try to get some sleep. Wish me luck, or better still, pray for me!
A lot is being made of today’s match between England and Cameroon in the Womens World Cup.
I watched the game. Cameroon were a disgusting team and displayed such extreme misbehaviour. I have never seen all these examples from one team in a single match…
- Spitting
- Serious foul play
- Shoving the referee over
- Refusing to restart the game, after VAR ruled in favour of England
Here’s a couple of videos I found on Twitter, showing how naughty those Cameroon girls behaved this afternoon.
As punishment, they need to be sent to their bedroom, grounded for a week, with no access to their Instagram account.
Either that, or a nominal fine and one-match ban, would equally do.
Like I said, I can’t take credit for these videos; so if you are a Cameroon player reading this, please don’t find me and beat me up.
Watching that World Cup game, along with hundreds of millions of other football fans worldwide, reminded me very much of Tiverton Town, when they paid a visit to Twerton Park, the home of Bath City, many years ago. Cameroon probably learnt a thing or two from the Devonshire thugs.
All this nasty stuff had overshadowed England’s win. A victory that means the Lionesses progress to the quarter finals of the tournament. Win that one too, and they will have matched the boys’ success of last year (getting to the semi final). Could the girls go one step further?
The opposition will no doubt be harder to beat than Cameroon, but at least the England players won’t have to worry about being assaulted, spat at or bearing witness to any temper tantrums, should they have the audacity to score a goal.
A message for my wife, Claire, on our 4th wedding anniversary…
Happy anniversary to my wonderful and amazing wife.
We have been through so much together, especially this last year.
Thank you for sitting next to me on the rollercoaster of life and for holding my hand through all the ups and downs.
I am always here for you and will always love you.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
