Monday, May 28


The stuff of nightmares. A year ago when exiting our local hospital following an outpatients appointment I experienced the sort of relief that must accompany a prisoner’s release from Belmarsh. I hate hospitals. My long enduring fear is to sustain an injury that requires hospitalisation, and which leads to death from MRSA. Whenever I walk through the doors I always wonder if I’ll be coming out. So, after a week of lying on my back - surrounded by other sick people - and the surgeon told me I could go home for three days leave, I was immediately on the phone to an extraction squad; as luck would have it, a couple of Baggies fans en route to Wembley. I’m still semi bed-ridden, but in the security of the barn. I'll take my chances with the chickens and the sheep.

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