Ite and a Bite

This week I managed to get out on my own socially for the first time in nearly two years!
Quite a milestone.
The occasion was a long-standing date with some old chums from school. Classics was no longer fashionable in the 1970s and there were only five of us out of about 250 in my year at Eton who chose those subjects at A-level.
Sadly, one of those five, Richard Pemberton, died in January of this year after a long battle with cancer, so last Tuesday it was just the surviving four who met for dinner at Boodle's club in St. James's. Unfortunately I couldn't share in the delights of a very enticing menu, and the only sip I tried of what was no doubt a most acceptable white Burgundy tasted like battery acid, but the company and conversation were highly enjoyable. The latter was a mixture of catching up since we last saw each other two years ago (since Richard and I were both crocked last year, so we didn't manage to meet then) and reminiscences of classroom characters and jokes which prompted almost as much giggling as they did nearly forty years ago. And of course we drank to Richard too;

Richard

I took with me this picture of him from his blog, taken almost exactly a year ago, so he was with us in image and in spirit, if not in body. Indeed, so congenial was the evening that I managed to stay for longer than I had anticipated and was very sorry that I had to leave when the others retired to the comfy chairs for coffee, but by then my feeble reserves of social stamina were exhausted. However, I am already looking forward to next year's reunion, when I hope I shall be able to participate more fully and for longer. Inshallah.

On the subject of dinner, my rare recent attempts at eating have not met with much

Ashes

success, I'm sorry to say. In the last week I have tried mouthfuls of both sweet potato soup (specially made forme by Julia) and avocado, but it seems that anything I submit for my palate's approval, however mild-tasting, turns to ashes in my mouth, as well as making me feel as if someone has pulled very hard on a drawstring attached to the inside of my cheeks. Not a pleasant experience.

After last week's excitement with the bandage contact lenses and then the unscheduled detachment of the Hickman line from my shoulder, I am glad to say that both issues are showing improvement this week. Although my vision is still a bit blurred and milky, it is much better than it was with the lenses in, and I can at least read well enough, for example, to type this blog after a week's course of hourly antibiotic eyedrops, now reduced to six times daily. We'll see what the eye doc says tomorrow.

And happily the docs at St Thomas's agreed to allow me a fortnight's grace before reinsertion of the Hickman line, so there was no ECP treatment last week and the shoulder has another ten days to recover from the ill effects of its rough treatment last time.

Finally, Julia has remarked recently on the fact that my hair is darker and less grey than it was before all this treatment, so we are both wondering whether this is a side-effect of having a bone marrow transplant from a 25-year-old!  Must remember to ask the docs at clinic tomorrow...