Back and still here

Well…I’m back online so all’s well. Kind of. I had the op last Monday as planned but because my life is always one step away from a drama, it got complicated. Half way through, with my guts out on the table, my heart arrested for four and a half minutes. A little longer and they would have been bagging me up. But after much effort it restarted and the op was completed. Six hours altogether for a 2 hour procedure. All the time my family were kept waiting for news because it was pretty touch and go it seems. That was one hell of a day for all of us but I’m home now and, although very sore, recovering steadily. I owe a lot to a lot of people but I’m not going to bang on here because I’m keeping this one for my book. It’s good to be back but even better to be still here of course.

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The C word

Well I think most people will have twigged by now from the occasional asides I’ve been dropping into recent postings that I was diagnosed with cancer a couple of months ago. Bummer eh. Anyway 7am tomorrow I’m off to hospital for surgery to remove the carcinoma from my bowel and any surrounding tissues. Then 6 months of chemotherapy beckons. I’ve had lots of cards, calls and texts today from friends and family wishing me well which is very kind. Then tonight a pleasant evening’s few drinks and meal at the infamous Anglers with my family. None for me of course.

Men and their motors

Take a look at this beast. A classic Formula 1 Mercedes-Benz, it has become the most expensive car to be sold at public auction after fetching more than £19m. This was the racing car driven by five-times F1 world champion Juan Manuel Fangio when he clinched the second of his titles in 1954. At almost double the price paid previously for the most expensive car bought at auction, it was sold over the telephone to an undisclosed bidder.

Richard the Absurd

So I’ve written about Richard Madeley before. He is a strange one isn’t he? He exudes puppy-like energy and eagerness to please and he’s always upbeat which are all likeable enough traits but he opens his mouth and turns into a complete prick. He just can’t stop himself.

some week-end eh

Well as week-ends go that was quite eventful if you’re a Brit and enjoy sport. Now we have a reputation for being gallant losers or just losers on the world sporting stage. But after the Olympics and Bradley Wiggins winning the Tour de France and our amazing come-back victory in the Ryder Cup and some brilliant individual golfing achievements recently by Rose and McDowell, we are turning into world beaters. Blimey. And then this week-end we only went and topped everything by delivering a fantastic series win by the Lions in Australia on Saturday morning, later on Chris Froome donned the yellow jersey and then, oh my lord, yesterday afternoon we only went and won Wimbledon with Andy Murray. The title that’s evaded us even longer than the World Cup. What’s happening? Where are the Australians and Americans, Russians, Germans and other sporting giants on the world stage? Bloody nowhere. 

resolutions

I feel a bit reflective this evening. It seems that my beloved desk top is truly kaput unless I can find a specialist now to do something with it. We had a spell a couple of years ago when things started to not work like this and it proved to be a difficult rut to escape from. As if to confirm this we lost out on a great new apartment overnight and I’m sure the fact I’m self-employed isn’t helping to make us an attractive prospect as tenants. The sponsorship business is tough and my medical situation isn’t going to help much either. On top of that we need to resolve what’s to be done with our Italian home. Some big issues are staring to mount up. I need to re-appraise what I’m to do with my life. 

So wrong it’s good

I need to admit it; I have an unusual interest. It’s nothing too creepy, I like to look at and admire things that are just a little bit wrong or not terribly good. Simple things like enjoying the images of a carefree Carl Vorderman emerging from the ITV studios in a bodycon dress that’s just a teeny bit too tight or the way Paul Scholes tackled. Possibly the greatest midfielder England has ever produced with the ball at his feet, but a complete lummox when it came to trying to take the ball from the feet of others. If he could have tackled like Booby Moore he would be regarded as better than Pele. Unfortunately his tackling prowess was closer to Brian Moore’s. But to watch him scythe down an opponent a good two minutes after the guy had passed the ball to a team-mate was a source of sheer joy to me. He turned contact clumsiness into an art form and he’d cap it with a show of utter disbelief whenever he was pulled up by some short-sighted referee and shown a very rare yellow card. Ah priceless.