Friday Oct 8 2010

The meal was grand that Irene, Anna and Emma had prepared. Beef with rice and a taste of ginger and coconut. Really tasty, but just before the meal something sent a slight twinge through my belly as if to say don't be tempted - stick to the Astronauts food, more of which later. It was not like a really sharp pain, more like a ball of rather dull razor-blades that had been used too long and had lost their edge, thank goodness. Tempted I was though, and it was delicious. Regular and perceptive readers will notice that I have removed the C-word from the titles in this blog. I find it out of place here and rather off-putting, and now I prefer this just to be a continuation of the original Spike and Bernadet blog, albeit with some temporary inconvenience. Anyway, back to the story. A lovely meal it was, but the problem with eating is that, well, what goes in must come out. In my case, that means I have to take very strong laxatives to reduce everything to give myself diah... dhia... dhaer..the squits. But now, dear readers, my sample package of Space Food has arrived. My brilliant doctor managed to authorise a sample for selection and a vast follow-up quantity of Astronauts Drink, total nutrition in a plastic bottle, straw attached. I sit with my space drink in front of the giant TV screen on white noise, phasers ready, ordering an extra look-out for Klingons, beaming myself hither and thither. I am Buck Rogers. I am Captain Scarlett. I am Major Tom. I am pathetic. Astronauts drinks have an enormous amount of energy in a very small space. One fell out of the fridge and I just managed to catch it with a diving save before it hit the floor and took the neighbourhood with it. Nitro has nothing on this stuff. Men in space must not waste their energy, a lot of which is spent breaking down food and turning it into poo, especially liquid poo. Much better that the body has as little to do as possible. This stuff therefore already tastes, smells and runs like liquid poo. The only thing the body has to do is to change the colour, and that costs almost no energy at all.  Brilliant! I have Astronauts  poo in colours of strawberry, vanille, orange, plum, apple etc. The chocolate is particularly uninviting, so don't mind if I don't.

Off to another super hour at the Art Class. I explained my circumstances to Ruud (pronounced 'Rude'), my brilliant aging hippy teacher. To get a diploma, all classes must be attended, all mid-week assignments complete. He told me not to worry. Any lessons that I missed he would give again personally. God bless the man!

Opa and Bernadet are off to 'Oude Heiloo', the local history society. They have made a film about the Second World War in Heiloo. Opa was one of those interviewed and is invited to the premiere. Red carpet and cameras flashing. Look, there's Brad Pitt.

Lovely to talk to Adam from Stuttgart. His course starts at 6 am and we broke off at 9 pm because another session was starting. He cannot get to the phone or have access to the internet so is a bit behind with the news. O to be a priest. Gives us all the time to think up some priestly jokes. He doesn't mind. God invented humour says Adam. Can't altar that.  I think I'll put my money into some new clothes for Adam. Looks good in vestments, bless hymn. Pew, thats a bad one.Right, lets have some more.

Merel dropped by and says maybe I am taking this all too lightly, and worse times are coming and am I not deceiving myself with all this jollity, and putting it off and not thinking about it? Bless you, my lovely child, but that is exactly what I am doing, and it is working just fine, and hopefully for Merel too. Hands up anyone who who wants to switch into despair mode? Hmm, I thought so. No hands. Merel says my jokes about Stoma Bags are all wrong. Her dance teacher has one and it is flat and about the size of 3 packets of cigs and she will bring one home for me to look at. Er, perhaps another time. She says she will wash it. Oh, alright then, but I can't edit the drawings now. I had no idea what stoma bags looked like, because that is for tomorrow and I have today. And tomorrow is another today, but a bit later on. I like todays, they suit me just fine.

The doctor just called and said that the sixty 8-packs of Astronauts Poo has arrived at the chemists, along with something to protect my stomach from the painkillers. A steel lining perhaps? Must go now, I am going shopping with Irene. We are both going to buy new undies. I want to look good in the hospital and have seen some really flashy speedos in shimmering lurex. Better not, don't want to blind the man with the scalpel at a critical point!

Bye all. Catch you later, and thank you all for this warm glow that I feel wafting over me from different parts of the world.
Just time for a swig of Astronauts Poo


Later that same day.
An afternoon shopping with Irene in Shopping Center 'Het Loo', which of course in english means 'The Toilet'. With an uncertain future, one must conserve one's wealth and eek out one's pension frugally. I normally go to Hij for my Pierre Cardin undies, but at today's prices... We went to Zeeman, a shop which makes Woolworths look like Harrods. Men's undies, 10 boxer shorts. Six euros please! But what about the quality? Will they last a long time? O yes Sir, they will last for years. Provided you don't wash them. Then they dissolve. So thats me set up in undies for a few decades. Here's how they look. Note I am proudly wearing my Superman T-shirt from Ruth with the note 'For a Super Opa'.


And here's another happy bunny. Anna, The Wheely Happy Hippie has passed her driving test.

WELL DONE ANNA!















I have just taken a pill to protect my stomach from painkillers. They are 40 Mg each. Idly glancing through the leaflet I read "maximum dose 20 mg per day. Under exceptional circumstances your doctor may prescribe 40 mg per day. But NEVER when there is any kind of kidney failure". Er, does failure include, um, having a 50% deficiency in the expected number of kidneys. I trust my doctor.

Bye all. I have had a good week.
Love you
Dad.