>Ode on a bottle

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To the tune of “You are my sunshine”

You are my piss pot
My only piss pot
My bladder’s happy
When you are near
I never knew just
How much I need you
So please don’t take
My piss pot away

They did anyway.

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>Hop tea

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Father's Day in Germany is celebrated on Ascension Day (which this year happens to coincide with May Day)

It traditionally involves copious amounts of alcohol, revelry and hoonish behaviour, starting early in the morning and continuing until everyone falls over.

Being stuck here in the Infirmary naturally limits potential for participation this year, so spirits were pretty low.

Dinner time.

Did my usual "No peppermint tea, thanks"

Dinner tray wafts in and Tim says " Thought you might like some hop tea instead"

Hop tea?

There's the usual mug with a tea-bag tag hanging out..

Doesn't LOOK much like tea.

Doesn't SMELL much like tea, either.

(Doesn't smell like peppermint tea, for sure. Thank goodness)

Penny drops.

Beer!

(Non-alcoholic, but it's the thought that counts)

(It has to be said that semantic camouflage has a long and healthy tradition in Germany – cars are "rolllende Blech" (rolling metal), a bicycle is a wire donkey, a pair of specs is a nose bicycle, wine is vine juice and beer goes under the cloak of barley juice.)

But I've never heard of hop tea

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>Rivalen der Rennbahn

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There used to be a schonky program on German TV called "Rivals of the Racetrack" about family feuding between a bunch of horsey upper class toffs in northern Germany.

This is my rival of the racetrack here (the corridor down to the HNO Clinic and back) – Hans Ludwig, my roommate.

He's pretty experienced in this sort of stuff – he had his other hip done last year and a knee's up for renewal too at some stage.

As soon as one of us gets ahead by a round, it's up on your crutches, into the starting gates and off towards the finishing post.

Down to 70 seconds today.

Should break the Sound Barrier by the weekend…….

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>Mum, I don’t feel well

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When your Mum's a nurse, you're up Shit Creek if you try to throw a sickie.

"Sick? You're not sick! The folks on Ward 5b are sick. Now get up and get off to school…"

This is Semra, pretty much the nicest nurse on the ward (and I can't imagine her being like that to her littlies)
And smart with it.

We were talking about our backgrounds – she's of Turkish heritage – and she suddenly asked "What was integration like for you?".

No-one's ever asked me that.

I'd never thought about it before – I just sort of merged in, I guess and it was definitely more difficult for her – but it saddens me that there are so few interactions between cultures at this level.

We'll have to continue the discussion tomorrow while she's washing my legs ….

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>A Magritte sky

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What a cracker of a sky today.

Google 'Magritte' and you'll see what I mean

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Visitors II

DSCN1151
Mine continue to be of exceptionally high quality.
Siegfried and Erika Leucht, the 161 year-olds (she’s 82, he’s 79) from across the road popped in yesterday with photos of the camelia from their garden and some goodies.
Just the nicest people who’ve led a most exciting life.
It started off like this:
They met in post-war Berlin, but couldn’t get married, because there was nowhere to live following the mass destruction of property in the bombings.
At about that time, Siegfried’s company posted him to Istanbul. So there he is, feeling pretty lonely wandering around Istanbul by himself with his girlfriend back in Germany, when he notices loads of apartments with no curtains.
Mentions it to a co-worker who says “No, it’s not that they can’t AFFORD curtains – they’re all empty.”
Formal proposal by mail.
Erika flies down on PanAm 1 and they get married in the German Consulate in 1954.
 From there, they were in Syria, Egypt, Turkey again and Slovenia (I’ve probably forgotten some)
In 1978, they bought the house across the road from ours.
John Whatley would say: Aren’t we lucky people!
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>Addiction

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They put something in the water to keep you quiet.

I'm pretty sure of it.

Either that, or the pills.

Most of the time you drift along in a semi-painfree state (which I figure beats the other option), but sometimes they get it wrong.

They doubled up the dosage of the little pink one yesterday and I was AWAAAY.

Almost as good as the opiates I got last week at the Ritual Slaughter, which made the wall look a bit different to reality.

Especially the picture

So I told them that the new pills were so good, I couldn't even feel my legs and could I please have some more?

Bad move.

Back to standard rations.

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>Head torture practitioner

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"You have to be a bit of a sadist in this line of work" she said

This is Annika, the physiotherapist.

You wouldn't suspect that under this gentle and attractive exterior lurks the soul of the Marquis de Sade.

Up and down the racetrack, up and down the stairs until she dumps you back on the bed, a wheezing wreck.

"And tomorrow" she says cheerfully " we'll have you on the bar. Just like Rudolf Nureyev"

I know they've got me wearing white stockings, but do I look like a bloody ballet dancer….?

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>Cabin fever

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This is a very useful device.
You can hang on to it and drag yourself around in bed.
They can hang transfusions and drips and stuff off it.
And you can use it quite effectively to confuse the wardens.
Wait until you hear them lurking around in the corridor with their instruments of torture, do a quick 30 pull-ups and your blood pressure shoots way up.
Your pulse is over 100, too
You’ve never seen them run for a doctor so fast….

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>Gods in white, angels in blue

>

The wardens come around daily to make sure we haven’t absconded.

Dr Koshewa who – being quite handy with hacksaws, hammers, screwdrivers, routers and similar kit – checks to make sure that Leg 2.0 hasn’t fallen off yet and Nurse Miriam tags along to make sure I’m behaving.

Seriously, though.

Really don’t think I could be in better hands.

Especially Nurse Miriam’s……..

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