Disgarding the NHS food for a day, I'll share some meals from yesterday, in this post;

I had sunflower and pumpkin seeded bagels with Paysan Breton salted cheese, red wine, papaya tea and in the evening, raw tuna slices dipped in a sea of wasabi, washed down with rum.

A change that I needed after l'hopitale.

What's on your plate's today dear friends?

At the table no one grows old.
-Italian proverb

Well done Italy!
But it should not stop there, as last night's game was surely the outstanding game of not only this World Cup, but perhaps the best European international for many years. The quality, commitment, style and professionalism on show was a new high in recent years, and this includes the referee.
Germany would very, very good, playing slightly above themselves, maybe, and will feel agrieved to lose in that manner, but Italy were clearly the better team and for once the superior team did get through. The two goals threatened to get me playing football again.

It should be said that both teams were winners last night and it was a showcase of world class football...so often something that is hoped-for and seldom seen. Last night, a level of the beautiful game WAS witnessed by millions, and I fear the final, as is so often the case, will not match the knock-out matches.

I read in the media, that England are referred to as sore losers, and upon reflection, feel it to be true.
The Portuguese living in England have said, why don't the English acknowledge their brilliant goalkeeper, Ricardo, and Scolari instead of seeking someone or something to blame.
Well, again, I'm inclined to agree. The game WAS a matter of penalties in the end, and Ricardo was a match-winner.
Instead of castigating our penalty takers, it is surely a better quality to congratulate some fine goalkeeping, is it not??

Enjoy the game, don't let it be war.

KK, good luck tonight, 8pm!

Morning all~~
As you know, from my posts tediously outlining ailments, my spine is broken with complications besides. This, the MRI confirmed, and was relayed to me by my busy consultant.

This week, I'm recovering painfully slowly from a big operation, and smaller surgery. There are times between the many surgeries, when there seems nothing the NHS can do but send me home for a day or two, and then bring me back in for a time, a pattern repeated over and over, which does at least allow me some moments at home, albeit brief. (It allowed me to photograph my garden and kk's tree too.)

Well, this week when I feel I need more help than usual, I've encountered things I'd rather never see, but feel great empathy with those that have;

Every week is not only a battle with my intensifying pain, loss of mobility and numbness of right leg, but also more pressingly, with the NHS themselves who seem hellbent on minimising my problems and actually making ME feel ashamed of myself...some night's I have sat upright in bed feeling just that...because I have got a weakness of physical body beyond my control, reliant on this nation's once proud NHS.

But daylight usually brings me to my senses again, thank goodness, and I see nearby faces, hurt by the same injury and denial from doctor's.

Recently, I've been given a long course of hydrotherapy, because in the physiotherapist's own words, "...there is not much we can do". This is a refreshing activity, almost impossible to achieve, but a great challenge all the same. The physio is good too, no faulting his patience and joviality.
However, and this is a deep breath however, I need walking sticks to move between wards, without them I'm a cabbage patch troll, but a heartless remark from a 'nurse' told me to, "leave them in the corner and make my way to the poolside."
I ignored it.
She barked again, " Do you need those, really ? "
"Yes" was my simple reply.
"Leave them with the other's" she insisted.
My eyes became Italianate, (before the semi-final win!!), as I struggled without them. I resembled Baloo from Jungle Book, as if I were trying to scratch my back against the wall, such was my distress and pain. No-one came to help, and I reached the pool, sweating, and white from pain.
Is this right? My spine hurts twice as much, not from the pool, but from this two minute performance between reception and pool.

That's not all, after the session in hydrotherapy, I was ordered to shower and drink water. My stick was still in reception, out of reach of even Spaghettiman and I hinted to the 'nurse' "My stick is still here?" to which she said, 'helpfully', "yes, over there".
I'm not lazy, not selfish nor impossing in any shape or form, but require some simple acknowledgements and assistance, or else I'll definitely slide down the slippery, jaggered spine of lifelessness.

Upon leaving, I said, "Thank you" which was ignored, followed by a louder cry of "Cheers" which too appeared reply-resistant.

Afterwards, my temper was 'hot' and the deputy consultant referred to 'my back problem' and "this back pain of yours" ...that sent my gasket to friends reunited where it met my senses head-on.

Why oh why do the hospital tell me my spine is broken, show me MRI pictures of the break, send me to various locations for operations, then refer to my "back pain" and "back problem" with no positive words that they will perform the direct operation on the spine?

My operations thus far have been to sort out things which have developed as a result of the time that has elapsed since being diagnosed with a "back problem" 23 months ago.

There appears no hope that they will help my spine, only the parts being damaged by it's broken position.

My tears are not forthcoming, but the emotions that go with it, are rubbing salt into my wounds.